Finding Balance
by Faylinn Night
Summary: A month after a chilling turn of events scars the turtles, Michelangelo and Leonardo save a young women from kidnap. The following events lead the brothers on a journey to face the imbalance in their hearts while solving a mystery. Tension runs deep, alliances are form, enemies are met, and relationships are tested. Will they find balance? Or will chaos consume them? [Raph/OC]
1. Tipping the Scales

**Genre:** Sci-Fi, Thriller, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy with sides of Romance  
**Universe:** The world is, honestly, a mixture. It's set in the 2k3 universe (in which seasons 1-4 took place) with minor elements from the 2007 movie and comics.  
**Rating:** Teen for mild language (mainly by Raph and Casey)  
**Release Plan:** The story has already been written out. For the first week I will post a chapter a day. After that, I will update with two chapters a week.  
**Author's Notes:** Hello, dearest reader. Are you looking for a feel-good story filled with comedy and fluffy romance? Then this isn't the story for you. However, if you are looking for a Sci-Fi thriller filled with character growth and family drama, then this is the story or you. _Finding Balance_ is the first installment in a quartet called _Cause and Effect_. To read an overview of this series, please visit my profile page. Meanwhile, onward to chapter one!

* * *

**Chapter 01 - ****Tipping the Scales**

The shoji screen slid shut behind Hamato Leonardo with a soft 'thunk' before he ventured forward towards his goal.

"My son, have you brought me my tea?" Splinter's faint question barely carried across the ambient room lit with thousands of candles, yet his son's skilled ears pick it up nonetheless. The blue-banded ninja nodded, watching behind pained eyes as his master slowly lifted his stiff body from a worn futon bed.

"Yes, I have, Otōsan," the son answered. His trained feet barely made a sound against the tatami mats below as he arrived by his father's side. "I even added a bit of honey and lemon."

With a bit of trouble, the mutant rat pushed his faded comforter to his waist then situated himself into a seated position. "Ah, such actions were not necessary," he said. Dainty paws reached for the steaming mug that Leonardo relinquished, trembling slightly. "Jasmine tea's natural flavors are soothing enough."

"Perhaps." Leo gave a kind smile. "But since you've been drinking it so much recently, I thought a little spicing up would be a nice change."

Splinter spared a moment to revel in the beverage's flavor then spoke again. "Thank you, Leonardo. This brew does my spirit good."

Leonardo hummed his approval and then kneeled on a slim pillow that served as a zabuton at his father's bedside. Carefully, so as not to seem obvious, he eyed the master for any signs of discomfort or illness. He found none, save for the rat's stiff movements. Splinter simply enjoyed his tea in silence, the drink's remedy bringing a sparkle to the old rat's eye that actually casted a sincere smile on Leonardo's face—that is, until his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Within the past year the Hamato brothers had begun to notice something rather discouraging. Old age was creeping up on their master, like a looming shadow ready to devour him up if given the chance. At first, it did not seem like such a terrible occurrence. Everyone ages, after all, and it had been years since the master last fought in a battle worthy enough to test his true limits.

However, when the rat's health shifted from being incapable of performing a strong kick to hardly walking for days on end, the siblings' worry grew an understandable tenfold. His movements became more rigid, his balance unsteady. Now, he spent more time in bed than anywhere else. Times have passed where he's active enough to instruct a lesson or catch-up on his 'stories'. Unfortunately, said days were few and far in-between. Too far for Leonardo's liking.

Splinter hated his sons fretting over him; Leonardo was quite aware of this. Yet how could a son not worry for their parent? Was concern for the health of his family not part of his responsibility as Jonin, as a clan leader? Perhaps paranoia simply drowned out all reason. Perhaps he was assuming too much. He had tried to rein in the emotions, keep them at bay, so the more logical part of his person could rule. In spite of it all, he still found himself succumbing to fear—a fear that had been ever-present in his personality yet recently catalyzed.

'_I'm just being silly_,' the mutant thought with a shake of his head. '_This must be something like Arthritis or something similar. He doesn't want to bother April, but I should ask her if anything can be done, if she can get any medicine to ease his stiffness. He'll bounce back eventually. He has to…_'

"Leonardo."

"Hai, Sensei?"

Sighing, Splinter shook his head ever so slightly, no doubt at the spaced response he received. "I wish you would not worry so much about me, my son. I am well when I am resting."

"I know," Leo spoke with a frown. "I just…wish there was something more I could do."

"But there is. Continue to look after your brothers, as you always have. Give them guidance and strength to keep them on the right path. Knowing you have such matters handled brings me peace enough to rest."

Leonardo flinched. "Sensei? I know you mean well by your words, but—but can you please not talk like that? It sounds too much like what one would say on their…"

"I will not live forever, Leonardo," Splinter said, solemn. "But my time is not now, nor anytime soon. Do not worry." The master stretched to place a free hand over that of his pupil's, and Leonardo's throat tightened at such a frail site.

"Who can say that with such certainty, though?" asked Leo. "I've seen how suddenly life can change. That can't happen with you…"

A pregnant pause followed then, thick and unsettling, and only Splinter sought to break it.

"Where are your brothers?" he questioned.

Immediately, Leonardo's attention snapped back to reality. "Well," he started, "Don's working, of course. He's been pulling more shifts than I would like him to. Raph is meeting up with Casey. I told him I was against him patrolling, but as usual he blew me off. Mikey's actually sleeping, I think. He's been spending a lot of time in his room lately."

"So, Raphael is topside?" A vague emotion washed over the elder mutant's features like a fleeting breath. Even Leonardo was unable to tell if his master was relieved or anxious.

"Yes," Leo replied, "though he may not be having as great a time as he would like."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

The Jonin grinned. "Justice."

* * *

Hamato Raphael glared like a maddened bull at the rain falling just beyond _Second Time Around_'s wide windows. It was late Friday night and he had planned to go on patrol with his best friend, Casey. Their plans, however, were put on hold due to a quite impressive storm. While a light drizzle may have been bearable, even Raphael knew better than to gallivant in the conditions outside.

"Damn weat'er. T'is is just our luck!" Raph exclaimed, his Brooklyn accent clear and heated.

"Well, at least we know t'ere ain't gunna be scum hangin' around tonight," Casey replied with a smirk. "Ya can't even see a foot in fron'a ya."

"Shut up, Case…"

"Oi,_ I _didn't make it rain!"

"Are you boys still moping?" A gentle voice bursting with amusement captured the awareness of the two males. April shut the door that led to her apartment and flashed a lopsided grin at the duo leaning against the shop's register desk before she retrieved a box of packed dishware located on a nearby countertop.

"What ya t'ink, April?" Raphael grumbled without the decency to face the redhead. "I was really lookin' forward to bashin' some heads in tonight." April shot Raph a disproving look then transported her new burden to a display shelf in the middle of the store. The ninja merely scowled.

"Dun't mind him, Ape," Casey chimed in. "He's just goin' a little stir-crazy, is all. It has been a while since we've been on patrol, ya know?"

April frowned. "Now that you mention it, the guys haven't been out as much recently…How long has it been since you two last met up?" Taking a careful step back from the now-unpacked box, April glanced in her friends' direction.

"Too long," the mutant mumbled darkly. Neither human noted it.

"Um…It's been…" Casey paused for several moments. "T'ree weeks?"

"Five," Raph injected.

"Really? It dun't feel t'at long."

April giggled—an action which earned a glare from her mutant friend. "Having a job will do that to you, Casey," she said. "All the work days kind of blend together to the point where you can't tell when's Wednesday and when's Monday. Well, maybe you can tell with Monday."

"Yeah," Casey joined in her laughter, "I've noticed t'at. It's really crazy."

"How fortunate for ya." Though his attention had already been brought back to the downpour outside, Raphael could sense the man's furrowed brows as he glared. The red-banded mutant did not so much as try hiding the displeasure in his flaring nostrils or crossed arms.

"Ya dun't gotta bite our heads off, man," Casey snapped back. "It's just some rain. We'll patrol anot'er night, alright?"

"Sure. Whatever."

"We can. Look"—the man moved so he stood before Raphael—"Just set a night and if I dun't have it off, I'll request it. How about t'at? …What's wit' the face?"

"Raph, are you OK?" April interjected. Her features morphed from mild annoyance to soft concern within a second: Raphael spotted this from his peripheral vision. She ceased tinkering with a China tea set so that she could tend to her friend; however, Raph shrugged off the comforting hand she placed on his shoulder, his face curdling like spoiled milk.

"I'm _just_ peachy," he hissed.

"Well…" April paused. "You don't seem 'peachy'."

"I'm _fine_."

"I beg to differ," Casey added. His tone was gruff with a flicker of his own temper. "Generally, when ya say yer fine, it means just the opposite."

"Ya dun't get it do ya?" the mutant snarled, glaring at his best friend.

"Get what?" the man countered with his own glare. "Yer unnecessary moodiness wit' me recently? Not at all!"

"Moodiness? T'is ain't moodiness, dumbass, t'is is frustration!"

"Over what? Seriously, Raph, ya ain't makin' any sense."

"Only because yer blind." Raphael huffed. "I've been lookin' forward to t'is night _all_ _week_! It's not like I can call ya up and go patrollin' on a whim anymore. No, ya had to go and be more 'responsible' and get a job."

"I need money to live, Raph!" retorted Casey, sneering. "Do ya expect me to just scrounge around for the rest of my life?"

"No, of course not! But…we barely see each ot'er anymore…" The ninja's voice trailed off into a sigh, though his jaw remained tensed and his fists remained clenched. For a long moment the trio remained silent until April took a soft step forward.

"Raph," she started softly, "if it's more than…just missing Casey or patrol, you know you can tell us, right?" Golden eyes drifted towards April, questioning yet also contemptuous in their cold gaze. After a deep breath, the female continued. "It's natural to be irritable, especially for you. But letting all that…baggage fester in your heart will do you no good. I mean…there wasn't much you could have done."

"_T'at _has not'in' to do wit' t'is, April," Raphael spat. "I just needed to do somet'in' tonight. Leo basically keeps everyone on lockdown and t'en every chance I get to do somet'in' fun wit' my best friend, anot'er t'ing always gets in the way. _Always_!" With a resounding growl, Raphael spun to drive his foot into the register desk's broadside. The powerful force of his heel cracked the plywood and caused several antiques on its surface to vibrate dangerously.

"Watch it, Raph!" snapped April. "Those items are rare and on lay-away. If you must to take your anger out on something, Casey's standing right there."

"Hey!"

"Listen, Raph, I know things have been tough for you recently. I really, really do." The pleading in her tone nearly convinced the mutant that she did. "It hurts me since you won't…confine in me. I—I know I can't do anything more than lend an ear, but sometimes that is all one needs. I don't want to sound insensitive, but some things…you—you just have to let go because if you don't," she shook her head, her tender voice lowering into a whisper, "they'll destroy you."

"What are ya, my psychiatrist?" Raphael scoffed. "I hear enough of t'is crap from Master Splinter. I dun't need it from ya too."

A frown settled on April's expression, and she gritted her teeth at the mutant's nonchalant wave he sent her. "Will you take me seriously?"

"I would if I were inna mood to talk, which I ain't. Sorry, Ape, but lettin' go isn't as easy as ya make it seem."

"I never said it was easy," the woman responded with a mild glare.

Raph growled. "Ya dun't know anyt'ing, so just let me be, alright?"

"I can't, Raph!" April cried. "All I want to do is help you through this in any way that I can, but you won't let me! Why?" Tears now welled in redhead's eyes. She took several cautious steps closer to her friend and the precise moment her fingertips brushed his bicep, he backed away as if avoiding acid.

"No," he yelped. "I dun't need any help."

"Raphael—"

"The rain's stopped. Suddenly, I dun't feel much like goin' out."

"C'mon, man," Casey finally interjected. "We've been plannin' t'is for a week…"

Amber eyes met those of steely blue as Raphael remained stationed. '_We could go_,' he thought, '_but I dun't wanna risk bein' pried at any further. It's none of t'eir business how I cope…_' In the end Raph saw his way to the store's backdoor. He could hear the harsh claps of Casey's combat boots against the wood floor as he took several long strides forward, but they ceased when April spoke up.

"It wasn't your fault, Raph," she said. "It wasn't any of your faults…"

The mutant barely refrained from cringing, his fingers tightly gripping the back door' brass handle. "Tell that to them…" he muttered.

Then, he was gone.

* * *

In spite of Hamato Michelangelo's cautiousness to double check the weather forecast, Fate seemed to favor that rare two-percent of participation. It had not been just a light rain shower, either. No, it had been a ruthless downpour of pins and needles that numbed one's body even in the eighty-degree temperature of an August night. Naturally, the ninja had not dressed for such an occasion, so by the time he finally found refuge beneath a manhole cover, his hoodie and sweatpants were drenched to the point where they became more of a liability than a comfort. Although he had stripped his body of them and stuffed them in his duffle bag not ten minutes ago, shivers still wracked his body.

"I sure hope I don't get sick from this," Mikey grumbled through chattering teeth. Rubbing his biceps, he sneezed twice then grimaced at the thought of being bed-ridden with a cold. No doubt Leo would fuss over him as he did with their father. Though in reality, the youngest Hamato disliked the idea of explaining to Leo what he was doing to get sick more so than the actual concept of being ill. After all, he was supposed to be sleeping.

'_Ah, but how could I_?' he thought. '_It's Friday night. I can't just stop going. Not yet. I know Leo says it's unhealthy to go there weekly, but the way I see it, they have their own ways of coping. Why must I be denied mine?_'

"Leo just doesn't want me out of the Lair," Mikey grumbled to no one in particular, "that's what it is. Overprotective dope…Hum, maybe I should wait a little while longer before going home. At least until these shivers stop…"

Yes, that idea seemed like a grand one, and Mikey nodded his approval, intent on sticking to it, until a rasping noise stopped him dead in his tracks.

Eee! Hoo!

'_What…_'

Eee! Hoo!

'_Is…_'

Eee! Hoo!

'_That?_'

Eee! Hoo!

Like a skittish church mouse, Michelangelo jolted out of his reverie. His left shoulder gave an involuntary twitch and his breath hitched high in his throat when he paused on the cold concrete to survey the tunnel. Poor lighting barely allowed for anyone to see the grimy features of underground. Even so, Mikey's eyes had been trained to see in the dark just as well as the light. As far as his baby blues could tell, the mutant turtle trekked home solo. However, sounds tended to carry in these old tunnels. With such distortions in play, there was no telling where the sound's true origin could be, much to Mikey's displeasure.

The orange-banded mutant shivered.

Anything could be out there! Giant spiders whose sizes rivaled double-decker buses. Evolved sharks that now walk on land. Starving hobos whose lack of proper sunlight has left them with no choice but to feast off rotting trash. To Mikey, any of these plots could be a real possibility, and he would rather not find out which one applied in this case. Leonardo—even Donatello—had stronger nerves when it came to the unforeseen. Not this Hamato brother. The option of turning back and choosing an alternate route came to mind. Unfortunately, said route would involve going topside once more.

'_Man, I can't get any more wet than I already am. I would definitely have to sneak in undetected at that point since I have nothing left to dry myself off with…Leo would grill me if he found out. Hum, I guess it's possible the creepy sounds are just…ya know, monsters. I could handle monsters. For the most part. Aw, man! What to do…?_'

After a heated minute of inner debate, the ninja chose the lesser of two evils. With baited breath and a pounding heart, Michelangelo prepared himself to tiptoe forward.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Another shiver ran up Mikey's spine. Still, he continued on. As the male drew near a bend in the waterway, the eerie echoing increased in volume, so much so that Michelangelo began reconsidering his verdict. Had he not already rounded the corner, he would have retreated. By that point, though, he could identify the sound without a doubt.

'_Hyperventilating? What would anyone in the right mind be doing down here?_'

Every ounce of the gallant mutant desired to cry out, 'Don't worry, I got you!' Unfortunately, chances were slim that such a start would go over well, even if he were human. New Yorkers cherished cynicism as a survival tool, and this tool make it difficult for the Hamato brothers to get on anyone's good side—desperate or not. Forget the fact they were in a sewer.

The ninja sighed. '_Alright, slow easy steps now. Slow. Easy. Steps…_'

Michelangelo remained within the tunnel's rich darkness as he crept closer for a better assessment. The slouched figure leaned against the curved, concrete wall, the only motion being that of a heaving chest. Judging by the vague silhouette provided by a dim recess light, it had to be female—a young adult with hips wider than her shoulders. When his eyes adjusted even more, Mikey could detect a light coating of dirt soiling everything from her ripped jeans and comic-print t-shirt to her colorful converse and frazzled, dark hair. In all honesty, it looked as if she skidded several feet in a barren baseball field after being denied a shower for a month.

'_I'm sure she's seen better days,_' the mutant noted grimly. He halted in front of the woman—just shy of the shadow's boundary—and studied her partially-shadowed face. She heaved in unsettling pain, the same pain evident in her wide eyes and tense fingers that gripped against the concrete behind her. Though not a medic, Michelangelo watched enough television to know the female needed to calm down or else she may pass out. Not that it would be such a terrible thing for him since it meant the absence of premature accusations and screaming. However, as far as he knew, it was raining outside. He could not, in good conscience, abandon someone in the street like that. Besides, who could she be left with even if he could find convenient shelter?

'_If it comes down to it, I'll just get Ape to help. Until then, here goes nothing..._'

"Hey…are you OK?" The woman gave no answer, so Michelangelo repeated. "Hey, are you OK?" Again, no answer. Mikey frowned. Maybe he could not be heard over the sound of her panicking? "Hey! Are you OK?"

As the mutant's voice echoed off the walls, the female's hyperventilating slowed down enough for her to talk between breathes. "Leonardo DaVinci's—Mona Lisa—was once—valued—at a—hundred million—dollars. It's worth—has only—skyrocketed—"

"Um…"

"Edgar Degas—became so—infatuated—with ballet dancers—that he— felt—compelled to—to represent them—in his works—"

"M—miss?"

"The first pigments—used in—paintings—were ground from—earth—minerals—and—and organic—matter—"

"Miss."

"The word 'cartoon'—originates from—"

"Miss! Please! You have to calm down, _now_."

The woman immediately grew silent and rigid. Nothing more than her heaving chest and searching eyes moved as she sunk further down the sloped wall. Instinct urged Michelangelo to retreat into a more dense area of the shadows, but the female's shifting vision glanced over him near half a dozen times, enough to make him confident he would not be noticed.

"There you go, calm yourself," Michelangelo spoke moments later.

The human attempted to scramble further back than physics would allow then swallowed a hard lump in her throat, saying softly, "So yo—I mean—I'm really being…talked to?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Wh—where are you?"

"Close enough to tell you're about to pass out."

"Y—you're not…going to hurt me…are you?"

The orange-banded mutant shook his head, even though he could not be seen. "No, I'm not," he answered. "I'm here to help you, actually. You don't seem very comfortable."

"I—I—I—" Labored inhaling forced the woman to stop speaking, which had Mikey cringing.

"Come on. Deep breaths now. Deep breaths."

"I—c—can't. T—too hard."

"Yes, you can. You were doing some earlier. Not fully, but it was a start."

The female shook her head of wild hair, now clenching her chest and screwing her eyes shut. "N—no—can't. Claustro—phobic."

"Ah…Well, that's…perfect. What are you doing down here?" If her sniffling were any indicator, Michelangelo would assume her trip had not been by choice.

'_I wonder what happened to her…I guess now may not be the best time to ask her that, though._'

"Hey," he attempted to regain her attention. "It's OK. You don't have to tell me. Just let me help you out of here, alright?" She only nodded. "OK, but you have to promise me something first."

The female's eyes shot open. "L—like what?" she asked.

"Don't be scared," Mikey replied, kind. "It's to help you with your breathing. Alright?"

"O—OK…"

"Alright, now just close your eyes. Imagine you're in a wide, open field surrounded by fresh air and towering skies. You're absolutely free with no worries." As he spoke gentle words, the mutant turtle inched closer to the obeying human until he stood by her left side. She twitched at his increasing voice, but never once did her eyes open. "Keep that one thought in your mind," Mikey told her. "I'm going to take you topside, but after that you have to find your own way home. Hopefully it's stopped raining…Now, I'm going to take your hand, alright? Pretend I'm—your brother."

"I—I'm an only child."

"Then I'm your father. Whoever you feel most comfortable around, OK? Now, you don't have to tell me where you live, but a general direction would certainly help me."

At first, she did not appear like she would answer, but after some thought she finally said, "I—I live east of—of Central Park, between Yorkville and Upper East Side. Near eighty-fourth and fifth."

"Woah, that's, like, over twenty-five blocks away, at least. Uh, I'll take you as north as I can. How about that? Now, take my arm and follow me." Michelangelo placed his right forearm—which had been wrapped in his scarf just moments before—under her hand and began to walk forward.

The journey was quiet, aside for the faint noise of rushing water. The female seemed content in her dreamscape, and Mikey refused to rob that comfort from her by asking questions. So, he kept a slow, careful pace, mapping out in his head where the best place to surface would be. After much inner debate the mutant determined to use the manhole cover located in an alley on East Fifty-Fifth Street. The woman about tripped when Michelangelo stopped, even though there was nothing to trip on.

'_Silly girl…_' he thought with a shake of his head.

"Um, we're here," Mikey said. "I'll leave you to climb the ladder. If you head left, there will be a bus stop at the corner across the street. It's not too late, so they should still be picking up. I'm sorry if it's still raining. This is the best I can do."

"No—No. Th—that's fine." Reluctant, the female released Mikey's arm and opened her eyes for the first time in half an hour. She blinked at the empty space Michelangelo had left within a millisecond, obviously confused. When she twisted her head over her shoulder to search more, the turtle repressed an amused chuckle. Several more moments she stood there, as if testing if she were truly alone before climbing the ladder to the now-clear sky above. She left behind nothing more than a small thanks to the air.

Mikey smiled at the manhole cover as it slid back in place. "You're welcome."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hope you enjoyed the start to this journey! Isn't Mikey just the sweetest little thing ever? I always want to give him a hug. *hugs Mikey* See ya at chapter two!


	2. Guardian

**Author's Notes: ** I'm sure you guys were wondering where our favorite little genius was, so, here he is! We get a little action now, after Don. Hope you enjoy! Oh, and thanks for the two reviews, guys. :D

* * *

**Chapter 02 - ****Guardian**

Hamato Donatello sighed and reclined in the worn leather chair stationed at his main computer desk—if one could call such a cluttered workspace of jerry-rigged scavengings anything of the sort. A distinct chattering could be heard from the other end of his phone line, which had Don physically pulling the headset away from his sensitive ears in a vain attempt to soothe an already pulsing headache.

'_I hate it when customers assume we're the dumb ones_,' he thought. '_If they're so smart, why even call in the first place?_'

By now the mutant responded automatically. He refused to listen to the hysterical woman—a teacher who found herself lost at the mercy of a new operating system—and instead gave occasional grunts of acknowledgment that probably ticked her off even more. He reached beside his mounted monitor for his best friend in such cases, a fitting coffee mug April had given him as a present five years ago. It stood about half-a-foot tall with a smooth, elegant lip and a bubbly body modeled after a grenade. On one side a white plaque stood out amongst the frame of muted green surrounding it. The phrase 'Complaint Department. Please take a number.' was stenciled in a military font across it, and Don wished then more than ever he could repeat such words to his current client.

'_But I know better than that. At least I have you._' Donatello smiled at the mug then brought the ceramic to his lips for a welcoming sip. '_Ah, that's good stuff…I wonder when this lady will be done yelling at me. I have other things to do…I ought to train with my bo staff soon. It's been a little while. But Raph is always in the dojo, it seems, and he wants to pick fights way too easy. I shouldn't back out of sparring, I know. Still, Splinter has also taught us to pick our battles. That turtle needs to just admit he's angry at himself and not what happened…Though I guess we all feel that way…Ha, it's safe to say Mikey is the only one really willing to move forward. I'm ready to go back out, too, but it seems Leo's…'_

"Ah…Leo…"

"Hey, Don, have you seen Mikey?"

It took a few seconds, but Donatello swiveled away from his workstation to the open archway behind him. Leonardo stood in its cavity, the most dangerous emotion darkening his features. No doubt he lacked the answers he sought, and Donatello just happened to be his next lucky victim. The purple-clad terrapin paused a moment in contemplation then shook his head.

"I haven't seen him since breakfast," he replied.

"Kuso," Leo sneered. The side of his clenched fist slammed against the neighboring brick wall like a _sledgehammer_, his umber eyes narrowed. Don accepted this as a sign for pausing work, so he placed the already irate woman on hold before gracing the eldest Hamato with his full attention.

"Have you asked Raph already?" he questioned.

"Of course I've already asked Raph," the older brother snapped.

Don remained composed. "How about Master Splinter?"

"Would I still be standing here if I had anyone else to ask?"

While a good point, Donatello still frowned. "Leo, I'm not having a good day either. I'm just trying to help you."

The other mutant held his breathe a brief moment before releasing it in defeat. "Yeah, I know…" he grumbled.

'_He looks tired…_'

"If he isn't in the Lair then he's more than likely getting a little fresh air. I'm sure he hasn't wandered too far in that case. What do you need him for anyways?"

Umber eyes flickered to the concrete floor as the Jonin shifted his weight to his left leg. "I just want to know where he is," he replied hurriedly.

Don groaned. "Leo—"

"Don't give me that," Leonardo snapped. "I have a right to know where he is."

"You can't monitor him forever," Don retorted. "It will only drive you crazy."

"As leader of this clan, it's my responsibility to monitor him forever."

"He's twenty-three."

"So?"

"'So?' Hell, Leo, don't do this to yourself. I want Mikey to stay safe too, but you're going to worry your shell right into an early grave."

At this, Leonardo grew quiet. He straightened up—arms crossed in a guarded manner—and spoke with heated yet carefully controlled words. "And you're doing what exactly?"

The purple-banded ninja twitched at his brother's intense gaze. "I'm just trying to get us a little extra cash, is all," he answered softly.

"I'm sure spending half your income on coffee is a great way to keep us all fed."

"You drink coffee, too."

"Not nearly as much as you do recently."

"Don't turn this around on me. I'm doing fine."

Leo looked everything but convinced. "Really?" he asked. "Since when do eighteen-hour shifts seven days a week equal fine?"

"We have to eat," replied Don.

"Not that much."

"Then it gives me something constructive to do."

"And you complain about _my_ worry being unhealthy. Right now, you're a prime example as to _why_ I have to worry. You work too much!"

"Well _one_ of us has to!" Donatello fell back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were dealing with nothing more than an ignorant customer.

Leonardo replied only after a tense silence, his voice now low. "Look, I just…I don't want you to make yourself sick. I'm sorry. I'm going to find Mikey…"

"Leo," Don called out, but it was too late; his older brother had already left. "Great…"

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone still there?"

Donatello scrambled back to his call. Strange, it seemed the line was still broadcasting. "Ah, sorry, sir—ugh—miss! …What was your problem again?"

* * *

Michelangelo cracked his stiff neck once more before repositioning himself against a roof's concrete ledge. With his weight now being balanced between his forearm and his bent leg, he resumed surveying the street scene before him. The familiar chaos of honking traffic and chattering people who gave the city its title 'The City That Never Sleeps' echoed from ten stories below, and Mikey revealed in every sound made. A faint draft of warm air rose from the asphalt below and a cloudless night revealed only a sliver of the moon.

Yes, this Saturday could not be more comforting. However, this harmony would not distract the ninja. He had a job to do, after all, a very important one at that. He was supposed to be a guardian. Over whom? Well, after helping that woman out of the sewers just over a week ago, Mikey had a hard time concentrating on anything else, if only out of grim curiosity. The thought of her ate at the back of his mind like bleach on skin, and he could not fight the urge to know more about that night.

How long had she been down there before he found her? Was she thrown there by some bully? If so, would said bully not be there to gloat over their handy work? And do adults even encounter bullies of that caliber? It seemed so grade school. If she was being chased by common thugs, why choose a sewer of all things to retreat to? If she had enough fight to get away, she certainly could have made it inside a populated store. Then there was the dirt. Not even he and his brothers got soiled that much on a weekly basis and they lived in the sewers. What did she do, roll in a construction site?

'_A bad night like that must make for some intense story…_'

In all honestly, he never intend to take tabs on her. It just sort of happened. One innocent trip to Central Park had him nearing Fifth Avenue towards East Eighty-Seventh Street then eventually down Madison. There, he took a break on the roofs of some restaurants (all the while cursing his empty stomach), and who does he spot crossing the street with takeout? The very same woman he had met not two days ago. He had followed her, of course, out of impulse, and since learned which group of apartments she lived in. From then on he studied her night schedule bit by bit.

Bit by bit, now. He never stood there for hours on end like a stalker would, though sometimes he pushed it if he did not feel like going home. By Wednesday he deduced she left her apartment near eleven at night then returned at one in the morning, so those times were the ones that Mikey paid the most attention to. Two measly hours. He only looked after her for two measly hours—just long enough to ensure she left and got home safe. That was not too much on his part, was it?

'_Of course, regularity could count against me too…_'

"Enjoying the weather?"

Michelangelo froze, breath and all. Though he dreaded turning, he did so nonetheless. Who better to greet him than his less-than-thrilled eldest brother?

"Hey, Leo," Mikey replied, sheepish. "What's up?"

The leader flashed a look, as if to say 'you didn't really just ask that question, did you?' "What are you doing out here, Michelangelo?"

The youngest cringed. "A better question would be 'how did you find me?'"

"I tracked your Shell Cell, you dope."

"Oh…Right."

'_Drat. Maybe I should have left that at home after all._'

Leonardo sighed. "I don't even want to think about what you're doing out here, so let's just go home."

"No," Mikey said with a little too much gusto. "I—uh—I'm in the middle of something."

"Really?" The leader raised an eye ridge. "Because to me it looks like you're just watching people. Perhaps patrolling?"

"What? Alone? No, of course not. Don't be silly."

"Mikey—"

"I said I'm not patrolling." The orange-banded ninja frowned. "Have a little trust in me, would you?"

"What else would you be doing up here? Save for visiting April, we don't have any other business topside except patrolling. I would bring something else up, but it's Saturday, not Friday."

Michelangelo had to scoff at those words. "Even if it was, what I do on Fridays isn't your business. Besides, have you ever thought I'm just getting some fresh air? You remember what fresh air is, right? Not even humans can monopolize such a privilege."

"In that case, I'm sure you've gotten plenty of it. Now come home."

"What's with you?"

"Nothing," Leo hissed as softly as possible. "I just want my family home."

Blue eyes rolled. "I'm not handicapped, ya know? I can take care of myself and know how to avoid fights. I'm not Raph." Michelangelo watched behind narrowed eyes as Leonardo rubbed his temple.

"Will you just come home?" the Jonin asked, voice strained.

"I can't; I'm busy."

"Doing what?" The blue-banded terrapin raised his arms to indicate the lack of action he perceived, and the younger of the two turned his attention back to the sidewalk.

"Just…something," Mikey murmured. "You can go. I'm fine. I'll be home before two. She's usually back an hour before then…"

"She?"

Oops. Maybe he should have mumbled that quieter. Or not at all.

"Who, is '_she_', Michelangelo?"

This time, Mikey lacked enough bravery to face the scrutinizing glare he felt burning a hole through his head. His mind reeled with excuses, none of them well-thought out, but within moments he spoke anyway. "It's nothing."

"'Nothing'?" Leo's near-mocking tone proved he had not been convinced. In turn, Mikey ran a sweaty hand down his face. Yeah, his mind repeated that very phrase too. Could he sound any more suspicious?

"Yeah, nothing."

Apparently, he could.

"Mikey, you said you _weren't _patrolling."

"I'm _not_!"

Leonardo kept his calm composure long enough to make his brother's stomach churn. "I know you better than that," he said. "Besides, I think sleep deprivation must be hindering your deception skills."

"Only because I'm a little distracted…"

"Well, distracted or not, I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth."

He meant those words; Mikey knew this. The youngest's own mouth had trapped him, and now if he ever wanted a moment of peace again, he had to tell Leo his story. So he did.

"Wait? You let her touch your arm?" questioned Leonardo firmly.

Michelangelo drew back in surprise then narrowed his baby blues. "I wrapped it in my scarf. Like I would actually let her feel my skin. Sheesh."

"Fine," Leo said with a sigh. "What happened then?"

"I lead her out and sunk back into the shadows. That's all."

"That's obviously not 'all' since you're watching her now. How did you even find her again?" Leo raised his three-fingered hand. "Scratch that, why watch her when you already saved her once?"

Mikey shook his head. "I—I…" He sighed. "It's hard to explain. I just feel like something was—haunting her…"

"Haunting her…?"

"That's the best way I can describe it."

"…That's it, you're coming home."

"Leo!"

"No! Do you have any proof she's being 'haunted'? Shady characters? Any signs of being followed whatsoever?"

"Well, not really…But she did seem very scared when I met her."

Leonardo deadpanned. "That's because she's claustrophobic. Mikey, you have no sound reasoning to be here. You can't just watch her until something bad happens."

"But what if—?"

"Mikey, there's _no proof_."

"I just check on her occasionally. It's not like I sit out here stalking her." Leo flashed him a look. "I don't!"

"OK. Then one o'clock has more than likely passed, and she's no doubt in her apartment getting ready for bed like we ought to be doing."

"Wait, it has?" Mikey checked the digital clock on his Shell Cell. It read '1:15 AM' and he cursed at missing his chance to spot her as he placed the device back in its pouch on his belt. Was she really safe? What if he left and she hadn't come back after all? Suddenly, he felt very nauseous.

"Will you just come with me?" asked Leo. "I won't be able to sleep while you're out."

"I can't," Mikey snapped, "I have a weird feeling."

"Michelangelo."

"Please, Leo. Will you just listen to me?"

"I already did! You sounded ridiculous. Now come home."

The orange-banded mutant shook his head firmly. "I have to know."

At this point Leonardo seemed powerless against the urge of rolling his eyes. He ground his teeth then finally moved to grasp his brother's upper arm out of frustration.

"A feeling doesn't warrant sitting out here alone until danger arrives," he about yelled.

"Yes, it does," retorted the young brother, taking back his arm.

"Why?"

"Leo, man, please. Just let me do this."

"No! Unless you give me a substantial motive, I'm not moving. We're supposed to work as a team."

At the word 'team', Michelangelo gritted his teeth. "You're being way too overbearing, you know that?"

"Complain to me at home," countered the leader. "Now tell me why?"

"Because," Mikey muttered sorely.

"Because? Because why, Mikey?"

"Dammit, Leo! Will you _please_ stop?"

"_Why_, Michelangelo!"

Michelangelo did not want to answer such a question; thinking about the words alone was enough to wretch his chest. Even so, Leonardo had pushed him, and like an exploding bomb, the words flew from Mikey's lips. "Because, unlike _you_, I refuse to remain helpless forever!" Fresh tears were hard for Michelangelo to contain when his brother physically reeled back, almost too hard. He was forced to turn away as he continued speaking. "Please…just let me do this. It's only something small…"

After a moment of hesitation, the older brother rested a gentle hand on his sibling's slumped shoulder. But before he could say anything more than Mikey's name, a sudden boom sounded and a chorus of shrill voices pierced the air from below.

"Fire! Fire! Someone call the police!"

In unison the Hamato duo snapped their vision across the street, towards the towering apartments that now blazed with intense heat from a fire brewing on the eighteenth floor. Wide blue eyes watched in horror as a billow of smoke plumed to alarming heights, and though faint sounds of sirens rung in the background, Michelangelo felt compelled to move.

"Mikey!" Leo pulled his brother off the building ledge. "Don't. We can't do anymore than the firemen can at this point."

"We can't just _leave_ those people inside!"

"We'd only risk getting caught in there as well. Muggings are one thing; fires of this caliber are another."

"But we have to help!"

Leo frowned. "Don't you mean you just want to find that woman?"

"…I'm going."

"Mikey, wait!" The leader's commands fell on deaf ears; Michelangelo had already landed on the next rooftop with a dull 'thud' and sprung ahead to continue his acrobatic way across the street.

'_Leo may be scared to get back into the game, but I'm not! We have to do something!_'

A few leaps later, Mikey landed gracefully on a flat roof, which neighbored the burning building. It did not reach the upper floors, being only ten stories high, but there were fire escapes on the side he faced. Unfortunately, before the guardian even reached the ledge, his older brother tackled him to the ground with breathe-stealing force. Mikey cringed as they made contact with the concrete below and struggled for freedom. He only managed to loosen his shoulders enough that he could see flames out of his peripheral vision. He was so close; he could smell the burning debris.

"Please, Leo, let me go!" he cried.

"I _won't _let you kill yourself, Mikey!"

"Please! I have to help!"

Leonardo's eyes softened at his brother's pleas, yet he remained still. "I'm sorry…"

'_No…_'

Those tears Michelangelo had tried so hard to repress earlier now flowed freely down his cheeks like salty streams, his body shaking in frustration. He knew it. He knew something bad was going to happen. Not a fire, surely. He had expected something along the lines of a home invasion, but this was much worse.

'_I'm sorry…_'

"Hey…Mikey, what does this woman look like?"

Cold blue eyes lifted to the brother now facing frontward. "Oh, _now_ you want to know?"

"Just tell me," the Jonin snapped.

"Pale skin, long dark hair, petite in height. Kinda chubby, I think. Why?" Michelangelo blinked in confusion as the older Hamato released his iron grip and motioned for him to follow. With eye ridges knit together, Michelangelo peered over the roof's edge to the warm-hued passage below. Leonardo pointed out two figures delving deeper into the darkness, a lanky male who no doubt had to duck through doorways and a short female who could fit beneath his armpits. The fair-haired man struggled with the burden of a stumbling dark-haired woman, who seemed displeased with their travels. She scratched at the tight grip he had on her wrist and spoke with a slurred lisp.

"Let me go!"

Michelangelo immediately recognized the voice. "That's her!" There was a shift in Leonardo's manner—Michelangelo could feel it by the very air around them. He also readied himself for what would come.

"Do you know who the middle-aged man is?" Leo whispered. "Her father?"

Mikey shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him before. But do you think she would be fighting her own father so hard?"

"That's true."

"Leo?"

"I guess it can't be helped," Leonardo said with a sigh. "Let's go."

Michelangelo gave a silent nod then tagged behind his brother as they both made a flawless drop into the alleyway. Each landed without a sound on opposing sides of the duo, just in time for the man to knock out the female with a blow to the back of the neck.

'_That's not just any blow_,' Mikey noted grimly within his mind, '_He knew exactly where to hit her and how hard. This man must be trained in some combat. But he doesn't look like a fighter at all._'

"I'm sorry about this, but it must be done," the man said to the figure he now carried in his arms. He began to walk away from road to the darker four-way junction behind the buildings; however, Michelangelo had been quick to hinder him with a swift kick to the back of his right knee.

"If you haven't noticed, the police are the other way," said the orange-banded ninja in a tone darker than intended.

Yet the man was unfazed by both Michelangelo's voice and attack, almost as if the moment had been rehearsed just minutes before. He had tightened his grip on the female and caught himself on one knee with such grace that Mikey could have mistaken him for a Foot soldier. That is, he could have if the man had not been dressed in a pair of pricey dress slacks and pinstriped shirt. Even on the street, the Hamato would never peg a Foot to be caught in name-brand shoes.

"You should stay out of this," the blonde hissed, glaring into what little darkness the fire escapes' shadows casted. "I don't need any more trouble than what I already got."

Michelangelo clenched the nunchucks tucked into his belt. "The same could be said about the girl you're kidnapping."

"What? Girl?" The man paused. "You mean you don't even know her name?"

Mikey frowned at the genuine surprise that caused the human's dark eyes to widen. Who did he mistake them for? The mutant was half-tempted to ask just that, but within the split moment it took him to contemplate such an option, Leonardo had initiated a series of blows meant to disorient the man and retrieve the female.

Hammer kick. Side-kick. Right hook. Uppercut. The human blocked them all.

Leonardo withdrew to his brother's side, sharing with him a mutual expression of confusion as he drew the katana meant to be unneeded. Mikey shrugged in answer to the Jonin's unsaid question and took a similar fighting stance, nunchucks at the ready. Together the two charged, and the man sought this opportunity to run.

"I don't think so!" Mikey leapt forward with a strong bound to strike one nunchuck against the human's right shoulder and the other at his side. The force caused his victim to stumble enough that Leonardo had no issues sweeping the man's legs out from under him. A dull 'thud' signified the human's fall on his side, and Michelangelo quickly snatched the woman from his loosened grasp before he could recover. Lying on his back, the man held his right shoulder in pain and attempted to get up two times, yet each time Leonardo knocked him back down.

"Give her back!" the male growled.

Mikey about laughed. "Uh, I don't think so, dude."

"I need her."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Enough," Leonardo interjected with a mild glare. "We'll knock him out then drop them both off with the police."

Shoosh! Michelangelo had no chance to reply; he was busy stumbling back in alarm due to a hasty recover by the blonde. It was as if the word 'police' shot a new wave of adrenaline through his veins that somersaulted him to his feet with the same grace he had displayed earlier. Dark eyes flinched as his long arms settled by his hips and he twisted behind to where the two ninja once stood before retreating to the shadows.

"There's two of you?" his throaty voice exclaimed. Though his fighting stance may have been slightly off-centered, he no doubt possessed the power to put up a hard fight.

Both mutants remained silent, and within a second's time Leonardo begun his third wave of attacks. Katana blades sliced through the night air like a whirlwind, but never once did they touch their intended target. Even with the man's actions hindered by a broken collarbone Mikey must have inflicted, he remained just far enough out of reach to annoy the Jonin. Mikey smiled at the subtle shift in his brother's chi.

'_Leo's about to up his game._'

The eldest Hamato pushed his body to move faster, which had the man reeling back in a vain attempt at remaining unscathed by the weapons. Within moments Leo had the man on his knees, breathless. But in that split second it took him to prepare for the final blow, the human produced a small gadget from his pocket that was promptly shattered on the ground. A waft of dense smoke seeped out, filling Leonardo's lungs, chocking him. Violently coughing, the terrapin retreated to Michelangelo for safety, who cried with a pout.

"A smoke screen? Really? That's _our_ gig!"

"Is he gone?" Leo managed to question between coughs. He blinked wildly.

"Yeah," the youngest brother replied sourly. Leonardo and Michelangelo remained in the alley a few minutes longer, only moving when Leo regained his vision.

"Alright," he said while sheathing the katana he had dropped, "let's leave the girl near the police. It's about time we got home."

"But what about the guy?"

"Mikey—"

"But—"

"There isn't anything we can do, OK? We'll leave her with the police. She'll be safe with them, and I'm sure she must have loved ones looking for her."

Michelangelo's vision dropped to the alley floor. "Yeah. Unless they were in that fire too."

"Be reasonable, Mikey," Leo said. "If she—and that man—got out, others could have gotten out as well. Come on."

With a gentle push and a strained smile, Leonardo guided his brother to the alley's opening. In the midst of blaring sirens and deafening chatter, firefighters, paramedics, and police paraded the streets in a controlled system like a colony of ants, leaving aghast bystanders to watch from afar. Michelangelo spared one last glance at the unconscious woman he held then did as his brother wished. He quickly laid the female in a paramedic's line of travel and left before being spotted. Leonardo greeted the orange-banded ninja with a kind smile when he rejoined the leader in the shadows after retrieving his nunchucks.

"Let's go home," Leo said.

Mikey sighed. "Alright…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Things have been a little stressful in the Hamato home recently, huh? Poor dears. D: Tune in tomorrow for another chapter!


	3. One of April's Finest

**Author's Note: **Well, it's not my usual time for an update, but I have a full day tomorrow. So, early release, haha. I would like to thank MysteriousFeather for their review. It's really appreciated. Oh, forgot to add this the past two chapters!  
**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 03 - ****One of April's Finest**

Casey Jones found himself indoors mid-Sunday afternoon, restocking shelves at _Second Time Around_ as if he were some common handyman. How did this come to be? Perhaps it had been those stern green eyes or those pressed pink lips that convinced him. After all, April could be a very scary woman when she wanted something. Just ask anyone she knew.

But of course there could have been another reason, a less well-known reason. Casey sometimes was too ashamed to admit it even within his own mind. The fact remained, though, that it was the truth. The redhead had her boyfriend wrapped around her finger.

So, albeit with a tad of begrudged groaning, Casey complied when April recruited his help that morning. And thus the man has spent the last six hours transporting and unpacking heavy boxes of junk. Now after his umpteenth box, Casey headed towards the still-damaged register desk for yet another break. There, he sat on a low bar stool and picked up a stone statue from the midst of various antiques on the desktop. The man eyed it closely, a thick eyebrow raised.

"So…what is t'is ugly t'ing?" he asked.

"It's not ugly!" April huffed from across the room. "It's unique."

"Really?" the man grumbled. "Because it looks like a drugged monkey to me."

Casey turned the weighty piece over in his hand for a better inspection. It had been carved from some form of rough stone to match the appearance of a malnourished humaniod. Its long form was hunched around its knees, as if protecting itself, and the eye sockets in its elongated face were deep enough for a dime to fit in. Parts of the figure were embellished with turquoise paint, yet most notably a light dusting of gold flecks glistened across the entire surface. Obviously, it was not old—what with its pristine condition—but that did little to deter from the price (which listed a number Casey would never spend on an ugly statue even if he did have the money). By the time the man began setting the piece down again, April had already crossed the room to snatch it from him.

"I don't expect you to appreciate it, but don't mock it," she said. "My father had been following this series before he closed the shop. A year after I reopened I managed to regain the consignment contract from another antique store that had taken it over. I get them imported from South America, where a small tribe makes them, and each piece has its own charm. Their representative has been very cooperative and generous with their culture."

Casey clicked his tongue. "If the pieces are so great, t'en where are the ot'ers?"

"I have a customer who collects them," April replied as she placed the delicate art back in its spot. She smiled at it then returned her attention towards Casey. "His family appreciates them just as much as I do, if not more so. I know they're in a good place."

"So, I guess t'at means he's gunna take t'is one too?"

"Yes." April frowned. "But it's been two weeks since he said he'd pick it up."

"Is t'at bad?"

"Perhaps not, but he's usually very prompt about such things."

"Guess he just got busy."

"I guess…"

Casey allowed a few moments to pass for further conversation, yet April remained silent, her eyes downcast.

"Hey, Ape?" he called.

"Yeah?" April glanced at Casey, seeming to notice then that she had become lost in thought.

"Ya OK?"

She smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, you big grunt. Now help me move some more boxes."

Casey let out an exasperated sigh, but stood up from his seat. "Alright, boss lady," he muttered, walking towards a pile of cardboard boxes she pointed at. From the corner of his eye, he sensed his girlfriend stick out her tongue in a teasing manner then spin on a heel to tend another pile of materials elsewhere. No sooner did the man heave one box to its designated spot did the shop phone begin ringing persistently. Casey glanced up at the sound of April's heavy footsteps, which told him that she was not keen on talking right now.

"Afternoon." Casey could tell April was barely succeeding in preventing annoyance from tarnishing her tone. "This is April from Second Time Around. How may I help you?" A small pause. "Um, yes?" This time the pause lasted longer, and Casey abandoned his work so he could better hear why April sounded unnerved. "_What_?"

"What's wrong?" Casey asked once he reached April's side. April, however, showed no signs of acknowledgment. The man pursed his thin lips with a grimace then leaned into the conversation instead.

"Wha—but I'm not—Where are her parents?" April questioned.

Though the masculine voice on the line may have been faint, Casey could still make it out. "I'm sorry, Miss O'Neil. I believe it's best if we talked in person."

* * *

Donatello's chocolate brown eyes shifted to the left, towards the orange-banded brother that dared touch the inventions sprawled across a steel table in the Lair's lab. Don would have sighed if he had not been on the phone with a customer, and the moment his task was completed, he deemed himself unavailable, placing the headset aside.

"What do you need, Mikey?" he inquired, unintentionally short. Michelangelo frowned in return, wordless. He placed down the little gadget he held with such surprising tenderness that Donatello frowned as well.

'_Something must be wrong,_' he thought. '_Mikey's never careful with my things..._'

"What wrong?" Don inquired. This time, his tone was softer.

Michelangelo did not reply promptly. First, he moved a wooden stool from the room's corner then placed it at the table so he could cross his arms over its surface. He kept his vision set on Don's inventions rather than Don himself, who now reposed on a swindling seat near his secondary desk.

"When was the last time we patrolled?" the youngest asked in a voice muffled by his arms.

"Uh…" Donatello honestly had trouble recalling. "Early August."

"Right. And when was the last time we trained as a team?"

"Mikey—"

"When, Don?"

'_I'm not the one he has to make think about this…_'

"The same time, when Raph's temper became a liability and Splinter suggested we should take a leave."

Mikey sighed and picked up his head ever so slightly. "It's been a month, yet we're _still_ not back on the streets. Why is Leo so reluctant to go topside again? I mean, even when we were dealing with the Foot, we still patrolled. We didn't let anything stop us, so long as we were healthy. But now Leo seems hell-bent on keeping us all here. It's not fair…"

Michelangelo trailed off, and Donatello paused several seconds to survey his little bother's sour expression. The poor dear looked so miserable, so confused, so…unlike Mikey. His usual cheerful features were twisted into a deep frown more often noticed these days. The mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes was extinguished, his strong posture defeated like one without hope. Even the usual air of chipper nonsense that surrounded him had been replaced by an unnatural melancholy. The site twisted Don's heart.

"I agree; it's not fair," said Donatello after another silent moment. "But there isn't anything we can do other than support Leo. He's our Jonin, so until he's gained his confidence back, we have to remain put."

Intense baby blues snapped towards Donatello like the crack of a whip, which had the latter cringing inwardly at their severity. "He's our Jonin, yes," Mikey said slowly. "And I love him. But I can't _stand_ the way he's been acting recently."

"Leo feels responsible for us," Don replied. "Even though we make our own choices and pull our own weight, he will always feel a need to care for us."

The younger ninja's face grew even darker. "I know that," he spat. "But he's the one to put unneeded stress on himself. He doesn't have to worry about us as much as he does."

"Mikey, what happened in July…it scared him a lot." Don said this with painstaking kindness.

Michelangelo straightened up to face his brother, his focus blazing with a mix of fear, anger, and guilt that Don admittedly still was not accustomed to. "It scared us _all_!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, it did, Mikey." Don rose from his chair and walked to his little brother, who gave a reluctant smile of gratitude when the purple-banded terrapin gave his shoulder a gentle tap.

"Do you remember the last time we patrolled?" Mikey asked.

"I thought I already answered that."

"No, not when. Do you remember what happened?"

Donatello sighed. "Of course I do."

"Those robbers got away because of Leo's new paranoia over us." Mikey scoffed. "It was a simple robbery, and we couldn't do that much. Next time we go out there…we're going to be a mess, I know it. Who can say when Leo will get back his confidence? He's such a careful perfectionist…"

Donatello gave a somber smile at his brother's downcast expression, shaking his head. "Yes, he doesn't believe he has room for failure. But despite that…he'll come around. Something is bound to happen to knock him back to his original senses."

One of Mike's eye ridges drew up. "You think? Like what?"

"I don't know," Don replied. "Maybe something will just land in our laps and he'll have no choice but to face it." Repressing a yawn, the technician saw his way to his desk once more, to retrieve his headset. As he hooked the device on his head, an unsure laugh reached his ears.

"What are the odds of _that_ happening?"

* * *

"A fire?" No amount of control could keep the horror out of April O'Neil's voice. She stared—wide-eyed—at the African-American detective, Hugh Reese, sitting crossway from her in the common room of Metropolitan Hospital's fifth floor. She tightly clenched her hands in her lap, and though Casey placed a comforting hand on her stiff shoulder from the neighboring seat, the woman found herself more annoyed at the action than anything. She lightly shrugged off his contact then took a deep breath to collect her thoughts. "How severe was it?" she questioned.

The detective replied with a momentary blank stare across his face before asking, almost bland, "You haven't seen the news coverage on it yet?"

April shook her head. "No. I've been busy stocking my store all day, so I haven't gotten a chance to watch TV. Is it that bad?"

"Well," Hugh sighed while running a hand first though his short, graying afro and then around the clean edges of his goatee, "it about gutted the entire eighteenth floor of the building."

"Entire?"

"Yep. It's a disaster. The eighteenth floor up to the rooftop now looks like one my wife's dinner dishes. The place will need complete remodeling, and everyone's lost their home." Reese flashed a tart smile then drew his attention to a hospital desk. He seemed to catch himself after that, his broad shoulders tensing. "Forgive my bluntness," he said. "It's been a long night…" The older man pinched the bridge of his wide nose and scrunched his weary face, as if inwardly chastising himself for making any kind of excuses.

April allowed him one moment before speaking again. "So Nia isn't hurt, right?"

Hugh nodded. "Right. She has minor lacerations, a bad bump on the back of her head, but nothing major. She can be discharged today if you can take her."

"Uh, not to be rude, but…does she have nowhere else to go?"

"What do you mean? You are her place to go…" The man's honey-brown eyes narrowed into questioning rather than intimidating slits, and April gave a light sigh.

"I know her through her father, Gavin Anders," she said softly. "He's been a faithful client of mine for eight years, and Nia often stops by the store for inspiration. She's my friend, but…I've never even met her outside of the store."

"So…you're merely an acquaintance?"

"Just about."

"Perfect."

April frowned as Hugh rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you told me she was unharmed. Couldn't she stay in a hotel until she found another place? I could visit her there, but my apartment really isn't made for more than one person…"

"I would beg to differ," Casey butted in. However, he grew silent the moment April laid eyes on him.

"She honestly put me down as an emergency contact?"

The detective nodded—a definite action. "Yes. She personally asked for you. It's the only thing she's said to us, actually."

"And her parents…"

Hugh's vision fell to the linoleum floor. "They haven't been identified. Or more like…they can't be. Charred bodies all look the same until dental records confirm otherwise. In this case, the fire burned so hot, a small amount even turned to ash."

"_Ash_?" the redhead questioned. "Is that even possible?"

"Under normal circumstances, no. Even cremated bodies still have to be ground. But it's not like we can deny the five piles of bone ash we found on the eighteenth floor." Seeing as how April remained still, the detective continued his explanation. "Those checked into police records are identified from the apartment's occupant list. Whoever isn't accounted for—body or no—has been deemed dead. Fourteen deaths in all. Gavin and Mia Anders are included among those fourteen."

April drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of Gavin's and Mia's deaths. Few deserved such a fate, and those two certainly were not among the few.

'_I can't believe it…And Nia…_'

"Ape?" Casey asked. The redhead faced her boyfriend, yet refused to cry, though she knew he would comfort her.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Really. It's just…jarring. He was one of my finest." She gave a light yet bitter laugh. "Oh man…Detective Reese, does she really have no other family members she can call? Aunt? Uncle? Step-grandfather? Best friend? Anything?" Reese only shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "And a hotel is out of the question?"

"Um," the man bit the bottom of his full lips, "not necessarily. She is technically old enough to live on her own, but—look. I'm not a doctor and I'm not a psychiatrist, but I've seen enough in life to know this girl needs someone right now, someone she trusts. She's taking this news worse than any of the others and is still in a state of shock."

"Is that so…?" April whispered.

"Yes." Hugh stood to his full height, nearly three heads above April from where she sat. He caught the redhead's gaze, and spoke in a low tone. "Acquaintance or no, that young woman asked for you, so as far as I'm concerned, you're the only one who can help her through this. But…I can only suggest. I'm sorry. There are others I must talk with as well. Good day, Miss O'Neil, Mister Jones." Then the gentleman nodded his farewells and left.

"So," Casey began after a long pause, "what are we going to do?"

Moments passed. April did not respond until she stood up as well.

"What do you think?" she questioned. "We can't just leave her alone if she asked for me…so we'll take her home. For now."

* * *

In the florescent lighting of a small computer lab, a hoarse voice drifted over a female worker's shoulder.

"Have you found him yet?" it asked.

The woman paused her barrage of keystrokes for a mere second before realizing such hesitation would cost her more trouble than the answer she was about to give. "N—no sir," she said. She almost cringed at her own stuttering. "He has severed all ties in Italy and no further tracking seems possible in the United States. We've found no trace of the artifact, either."

The heavy atmosphere looming behind her grew tenfold, and the female could do nothing more to steady her pounding heart than breathe deeply through her upturned nose. Her blue eyes remained focused at the screen ahead, at a collection of geometric shapes and vast text only an experienced person such as herself would ever be able to understand. She kept that concentration firm until her employer spoke again several long moments later.

"Miss Lombardo?"

"Yes, sir?" Lombardo answered with care. A hand rested at the base of her skull, radiating controlled anger and reminding her how insignificant any fight she put up would be. "I will not tolerate rogues. Find them _both_."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

**Author's Note:** *gasp* How sinister! Unlike Miss Lombardo, I would _not_ be able to work with a boss who made me feel that way. No, sir! See you next chapter. Don't forget to review, if you can! :D


	4. Faith and Trust

**Author's Note:** Well, last chapter was posted early because I had a busy day, but...I wanted to update tonight anyway. XD This chapter is more of character delving than plot/action. Still, I hope you enjoy it. Next chapter will have some action, honest! Thanks again to Feather for the review. :3  
**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 04 - ****Faith and Trust**

Casey stretched his toned arms high above his head, a heavy breath escaping his lips while he walked towards the refrigerator. His body was quite stiff from napping on April's couch the night prior, so a few of his joints gave an uncomfortable 'pop' as they screamed their protest at being moved.

"How much longer do ya t'ink she'll sleep?" he questioned.

"I'm not sure," April replied from her spot on the living room's leather sofa. "Ever since she arrived here that's all she's been doing. That, and staring out the window like some zombie...She hasn't even eaten."

"Yeah, t'at's no good. She outta—wait. Ya still haven't gotten her to eat yet?" Casey craned his neck away from the fridge's cool air for a better view of his girlfriend. When she shook her head of loose red locks, he quickly shut the door and stalked towards her. "It's Tuesday!" he exclaimed.

"I know what day it is, _Casey_," the woman snapped. "She refuses to leave that room. I set meals in there, talk with her, invite her out, but she's nonresponsive to it all. Like she's not really there."

"Man…" Casey rounded the couch to plop beside his girlfriend.

A small pause followed—filled with the faint conversation of television—before the man spoke again.

"At t'is rate she'll really make herself sick."

"I know," said April softly, swallowing more of her drink. "I think she's moved passed the shock right into depression, and that really isn't something you can just snap a person out of, ya know?"

"Yeah…She—uh—ya wouldn't happen to know if she's the kind'a person to…hurt herself, would ya?"

April met Casey's side-glance with a stern look. "You mean, is she suicidal?" she asked blandly.

The man half-shrugged. "I just want to know if we should be…watchin' for anyt'in'."

"No," the woman drawled seconds later. "I wouldn't say she is. Then again, it's kind of hard to answer that with certainty when you don't know someone's true personality."

"What ya mean?"

April gave a light sigh. "Well, her father usually does—did—all the talking. Her mother only visited on occasion. The times Nia would come alone, I would be lucky to get a few one-liners out of her. At first I thought it was some sort of mental disorder like Autism, but over time I found she's just…distant." Casey raised an inquiring eyebrow, which had his girlfriend shrugging. "How else am I supposed to explain it?" she continued. "She doesn't make small talk easily. Eye contact is virtually impossible. Honestly, I can't imagine why she dubbed me as her emergency contact at all."

"Yeah." Casey smirked. "If yer the closest t'ing to a friend she's got, t'at's a little sad." Flaring nostrils indicated Casey's joke went unappreciated.

"Don't you work today?" questioned the woman sorely.

"Dun't ya?" Casey retorted.

April deadpanned at the smug face of her boyfriend then huffed as she left the couch to place her empty coffee mug in the kitchen sink. Casey's smirk did not falter while he watched her from the couch. Yes, he knew the redhead was beyond frustrated at not being any help in her new charge's recovery, but he also knew if she did not take a break from the trouble, at some point she would drive herself mad.

"I go into work around t'ree, so I still got a few hours," Casey said when April returned from the kitchen. "Ya didn't open the shop yesterday because ya were here wit' Nia, right?" April nodded with some difficulty. "T'en go open it. Ya can get a few hours in, and I'll stay here to look over the girl." The look he received was not one of confidence. "Hey, I've watched over Angel all t'ese years!"

"And she moved out of state."

"Ya know t'at wasn't because of me. Besides, Raph and I pried her out of the gang life and set her on the right path."

"Still…"

Casey snorted. "Look, ya haven't gotten t'rough to her yet, right? Why not give someone else a chance? If it dun't work, t'en ya got a break to recoup and try again."

Though April shook her head, her smile showed nothing but amusement. "Stop that," she remarked.

"Stop what?"

"It's scary when _you_ make sense." With a teasing wink, the female retreated upstairs, leaving Casey to grimace in his seat. When she returned a few minutes later, she stood between Casey and the television and smoothed out a few wrinkles from her button-up blouse. "Now, when I'm open, I'm busy," she commented once satisfied with her appearance. "I can't easily help you if you do something stupid."

"Jeeze, April, I'm not a child," he grumbled.

Green eyes rolled. "Most of the time you act like one, though. So, try to make her lunch. Maybe this time she will eat it. I'd prefer if you made a sandwich or something since, well, I don't particularly feel like scraping burnt food off my dishes."

"What ya talkin' about? Ya'd make me clean it even if ya had been the one to burn t'em…"

April either ignored that statement or did not hear it because she made her way to the wooden door that led downstairs without so much as a scoff. Before descending, though, she smiled at Casey—a genuine gesture that convinced him he was doing the woman some good at the moment after all. A small 'click' chimed through the still room and marked the beginning of Casey's opportunity to coax one traumatized woman out of depression.

Coax a woman out of depression.

Casey blinked as he reflected on those words.

Wait. What the hell was he thinking? He had no idea where to even start! His comforting, at best, when it came to April included a gruff grunt and lots of holding. Somehow, he got the feeling that that same method would not work on a girl who he had seen for a total of four hours within two days. Now that the full situation had finally sunk into his consciousness, he admitted to himself that the possibility he could do any good was slim at best. Even so, it had been his own mouth to back him up.

'_Where did t'at even come from anyway?_' Casey sighed. '_Well, here goes not'in'…_'

And so the man stood up and ventured towards the kitchen to prepare a simple ham sandwich, which he placed on a paper plate and accompanied with a small glass of milk. Soon enough he was heading upstairs, down the hall, and towards the right. He halted at a plain, white door, if only because full hands prevented him from barging right in. He balanced the plate over the cup's rim and knocked twice before swinging the door open to reveal a bright-lit room that had Casey momentarily squinting. Once his eyes adjusted, he entered and studied the scene ahead.

A twin mattress rested on a piece of incomplete plywood meant to distribute weight across its six cinderblock pillars. It lined flush against the wall lengthways—so its master could easily view the cityscape outside—and was decorated with nothing more than three spare throw blankets and a single pillow. It was a raggedy site, for sure, and the rest of the room was no better—with its bare, white walls and musty smell of dust that even incense could not mask. Piles of boxes littered the carpeted floor, but that was because the room has been used for store inventory for so long that April had forgotten its intended purpose was for accommodating guests.

"Uh, room service," Casey chimed, a little louder than intended. He strolled towards an antique end table beside the bed to place down his burden and noted grimly that the chicken dinner from last night remained untouched, as did most of her water.

'_Well, at least some of the water is gone. It's better t'an none. Still, I would'a liked to see a nibble taken out of the meal…_'

"Do ya not like lemon and garlic chicken?" he inquired, moving the old food to a stack of boxes near the door. "Personally, I find it rat'er delicious, but for all we know ya could be a vegetarian. Are ya a vegetarian?" The man twisted towards the upright figure in bed. She made no sound, no movement. Only a slight heaving of her chest and shoulders ensured she was even breathing.

'_Sheesh. This girl would give mimes a run for their money…_'

This would prove to be a challenge for sure. Good thing Casey liked challenges. With a light sigh, the raven-haired man seated himself on a banana box marked as 'books' then took a few moments to scan over Nia's features while she knowingly, or unknowingly, adjusted to his presence.

Over all, she looked quite average for a young New York woman—Caucasian, dark-haired, with just enough point to her chin to be graceful. Two thick braids draped over her slumped shoulders to slightly pool at her hips. They must have been tied by April in an attempt to ease Nia's stress, yet what little expression that was not obscured by her side-swept bangs showed contrary to the redhead's possible intent. She kept her legs drawn against her torso and in her grasp—beside her covered feet and a closed sketchbook—she held that ugly-as-sin statue recognizable from Sunday.

'_Well, her fat'er had been the one collectin' the series,_' Casey thought. '_I guess it's only right to let her keep it._' Shaking his head, Casey tore his attention away from the artwork to Nia's face, which ever so slightly tilted his way.

It was with grim realization that he noted her expression. It had not changed a bit since the first time he met her. It remained void—void of anger, void of sorrow, void of reasoning, void of thought. She simply read empty. Even her fair skin—which emphasized several blue veins on her neck and the dark bags under her eyes—had yet regained any of its healthy red hue. Before, the cause must have been fright from Saturday night. Now it seemed her lack of food and sleep must be left her looking as if she has been literally drained of life. Only the air of fear surrounding her like an electrical pulse indicated the opposite, that she was indeed alive.

Casey barely refrained from grimacing. Was it just him? Or did his job just grow phenomenally more difficult in an instant? No matter. He still sucked in a deep breath and started.

"So…I heard yer apartment burned down. T'at's a bummer."

'_Tactful, Casey. Tactful._' Even so, it was the only thing he could think to say.

"It really is," he continued. "I know a t'ing or two about t'at, believe it or not. Have ya heard of Hun, leader of the Purple Dragons? Yeah. He burned down my fat'er's shop before. I—It ain't a pleasant experience, but…ya do find a new home for yerself. I'm sure ya'll be fine on yer own."

Casey paused. '_Wait…Was t'at…a flinch?_'

"What?" he questioned. "Ya dun't wanna be on yer on?" Teal eyes flickered in his direction, yet Nia regained her composure all within the span of a second. "Is t'at why ya called April? Because ya had no ot'er family and couldn't stand the t'ought of bein' alone?" The man remained silent yet received no response. "How old are ya?" he asked. "Around twenty or so? Shouldn't ya be livin' on yer own anyways? Why still live wit' yer parents? I guess t'at isn't necessarily a bad t'ing, but usually kids t'ese days can't wait to get outta t'eir folk's place, ya know?"

No response.

"Look," Casey said, stern, "Detective Reese told us ya asked for April personally. Now why would ya do t'at if ya weren't gunna to talk to her? She's worried about ya, and I hate seein' her frettin'. If yer intent was to just sit at someone else's house feelin' sorry for yerself t'en ya could have done it elsewhere. I'm sorry about yer parents, I really am. But sittin' here won't make t'em any less _dead_!"

The very instant that last word flew from his lips, Casey wished to take it back, as he often did when his temper reigned. Another wave of silence overcame them—this one filled with far more tension than the rest. Casey prepared himself to leave, thinking he had blown his only chance; however, a soft voice had him freezing in surprise.

"I…couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?" Casey asked.

Nia released a light breath. "Go to anyone else…" she finished.

"So…ya really got no ot'er family?" For a brief moment, the man thought he had lost his connection, until Nia spoke up when he threw his head back in silent annoyance.

"No one…who would take me in…"

"Really? Well…ya can count t'at as a blessin' if ya want. I would. Because sometimes family can just be, uh—like my cousin Sid. He's back and forth between bein' straight and a mess. It's a real pain …T'ough I guess t'ey're all worth it in the end, for the most part." Casey's thoughts did not dwell on his blood relatives, but relatives of another kind. "Well, shit…" That point could have gone better. Nonetheless, Nia continued speaking.

"What…what did the detective tell you?" she asked timidly.

"What do ya mean? He told us about the fire, yer parents'…deaths, and t'at ya had asked for April's help. What do ya t'ink he told us?" Though thankful their connection had not been severed, the man flashed a weary look at yet another long pause.

With a sigh, Nia twisted her head away a little further. "The detective is wrong. They're not…"

Casey had to resituate himself so that he leaned closer towards the young woman's barely audible voice. "Not what?"

"Dead."

The man only needed to ponder that response for a moment. "Ya mean yer parents?" Nia replied with pure silence, and Casey sighed before he could temper himself. "Uh, I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure t'ey are. If yer an only child t'en t'ose two bodies found in yer old apartment couldn't be anyone else. T'ey probably ensured ya escaped somehow, but got trapped in the fire t'emselves. If yer here, t'at means t'ey must have sacrificed t'emselves for ya, t'eir daughter. Can ya be t'at blind?"

As he spoke, Casey took note of Nia's increased trembling, the most emotion he had seen from her to date. No doubt her parents' deaths were a touchy subject. Whose would not be? Perhaps the girl had spent all this time alone trying to convince herself against reality. Or maybe that is something she had believed from the very beginning and refused to let go. Really, he could not say. Either way, her manner of thinking was everything but beneficial to her recovery, and if pouring salt into her wounds was the only way to bring about some sort of reaction then so be it.

"Ya parents are dead, Nia," he continued. "If ya dun't accept t'at, ya'll never heal."

Tears streamed down a pair of cheeks that finally found a tint of color as Nia swallowed one large lump in her throat. She never once faced Casey, who took this as his less-than-subtle cue to leave. He had said what needed to be said, and knew for certain he would be leaving her to contemplate his words.

Before he left the room, though, he turned around one last time. "Ya got one really amazin' lady willin' to help ya t'rough t'is. I t'ink ya know t'at. T'is pain won't go away over night, but denyin' it will only make it worse when reality hits ya all over again. Ya gotta _trust_ her, confine in her. Because yer tellin' me t'at she's all ya got now. Make the most outta it..."

* * *

"Michelangelo!" A sharp voice cut through the Lair's living room, barely capturing the attention of one distracted mutant. Hesitant and sluggish, Michelangelo twisted his neck away from the wall of televisions and to the left. Hamato Splinter stood a foot shy of the couch's armrest, body erect in spite of the needed cane he gripped in one paw.

"My son," said Splinter, momentarily glancing at Klunk in Michelangelo's lap, "I have called your name five times. Why did you not respond?"

Distant blue eyes blinked in response. "You have?"

"Yes."

"Oh…sorry."

Splinter frowned when his son returned to the chattering televisions and then moved to sit beside the orange-banded ninja on the worn piece of furniture. Another side glance indicated the youngest Hamato had reverted to his reverie already, which caused the master's nose to twitch in worry. He had not expected any of his sons to be awake at this time of early morning— or at least, not awake and watching television. In all honesty, he was surprised he found himself alert; but of course all the rest Leonardo insisted he do may be a contributing factor.

"Michelangelo," Splinter addressed again, this time more firm. "Your distracted behavior has become especially apparent recently. Is anything troubling you?" The rat succeeded in capturing the mutant's interest again, though instead of being met with lost helplessness as he had expected, he was met with a cold stare that thrust a pang of hurt into his chest like a dagger.

"Don't pretend like you don't know, Master Splinter," he grumbled. "I know Leo talks to you…"

"And what is it you believe he has told me, my son?"

Mikey sighed. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing."

"Such a stubborn answer."

Michelangelo grew silent then, glaring at a commercial on screen as if was his worst enemy in the universe. Splinter's heart dropped at the troubling site. Under normal circumstances, it never took this much effort to persuade his youngest into talking about any issues; he was always so trusting when it came to any matters. But after a minute's pause, he still remained silent, so Splinter spoke up.

"Shin."

"What?"

"Shin," Splinter repeated. "The Bushido teaching of honesty."

"I know what it means." Mikey pursed his wide mouth. "I meant why are you bringing it up?"

"I believe you know why, Michelangelo." In a moment of contemplation, the ninja spared a glance towards his master, who smiled in the full knowledge that the youngest wanted to talk, needed to talk, yet required a slight push to do so. One sigh later, Splinter got his answer.

"Leo's out of control! He's become way too paranoid, and it's driving me nuts. Nuts!" Klunk fled behind the couch when Michelangelo stood and allowed his frustration to animate his arms as he continued. "Where are you going? What are you doing? Are you OK? Why does he have to ask these questions so much recently? You know, I haven't been able to leave the Lair since Saturday. That's three days of sitting at home with nothing to do but think. And you know what I think about." The terrapin stopped to share a pained grimace with Splinter. "You told the four of us we must work together to heal, so…why do I feel like I'm the only one who's trying?"

Still, controlled, Splinter sat with his paws clenching the head of his wooden cane. He eyed his youngest with experienced patience, yet inside him burned a melting pot of emotions stemmed from how useless he felt. His sons, they had grown so much within the past years, physically and mentally. However, there came and passed a point in time where he, as their father, could handle their problems. Now, he could only offer them words of advice. Whether or not they chose to use his advice as a guideline or outright ignore it was their sole prerogative. Nonetheless, this knowledge did not diminish the wrenching sorrow that constricted him every time his children had to overcome trials without him.

"Michelangelo, come sit by me." Like an obedient child Mikey did as his father's soft voice commanded, falling into the couch cushions and resting a weary head in his three-finger hands. The wizen rodent rested a paw on his son's stiff shoulder and could only pray his heartbreak transferred through the touch. "Your brothers are scared, and while you may not agree with or understand it, they have their own means of recovery. Yes, I have said that you will need to lean on one another for help and comfort, however…"

"None of them are doing that, especially Leo and Raph."

It pained Splinter to admit it, but it was the truth. "Yes."

"It's been a month. We should be back out there already, doing what we need to. We can't do that if we're stuck down here twenty-four-seven thanks to _Leo darling_."

"Rie." The orange-banded ninja jerked his head up at this mild reprimand, sending a quick side-glance at the master before the word click in his head. "Respect the leader of your clan, Michelangelo. You must have faith in him. He is the most scared, for he is responsible for you all. Stay strong and support him, for that comfort will eventually give him the power to move forward."

"But he has to have faith in us, too."

"Leonardo does."

"No, he doesn't!" Mikey retorted. "It's like he's lost his confidence in us to continue what we've been doing for eight years. Why else won't he let us go topside? He's even against me going out on Fridays, and I don't really do much. No matter what, he acts the same. Why haven't you told him to move forward instead?"

Splinter kept an impassive expression under his son's heated glare. "I have said all I can to Leonardo," he spoke, slow. "I can do nothing more…"

"So, basically, you mean to say you've given up on him as well."

"Michelangelo." Blue eyes adverted, glistening with either tears of frustration or dismay. "Shinrai. Faith. One of you brothers must keep this close, for if you all loose it then your path ahead will be a dark one. None of you are at fault. My son," Splinter outstretched a tender paw to draw Michelangelo's vision back to him, "do not give up. As certain as I know you are hurting, you are also strong. As of now, you are the only one to see through the pain, so you must harness the initiative to see your brothers through it as well."

"But," Mikey's voice cracked, "I don't know how to do that."

Splinter smiled in return, a soothing but also sorrowful motion. "Keep your faith, Michelangelo. Though painful and difficult, you will find a sense of inner peace with it. Your brothers will as well. Simply give them time."

Shaking his head with a sigh, Michelangelo rose from the couch and flashed his mentor a shallow smile. "Good night, Master Splinter," he said softly.

Splinter smiled in return. "Good night…my son."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Casey? Making sense? What is the world coming to?! That's OK, though, since he soon makes up for the strangeness with being his boneheaded self. A little Mikey and Splinter bonding there, folks. Seems Mikey's optimism is beginning to slip! D: Will Splinter's little talk restore it? Or will something ELSE do that? Hummmmm. Until tomorrow, folks!


	5. Complications

**Author's Note: **Well, this is delayed because I had a very full day Wednesday. Very full. So, today I will post two chapters! I hope you enjoy a slight pick-up in action, mwahaha!**  
****Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 05 - ****Complications**

A long and hard sigh escaped April's lips when she finished the last bite of her pepperoni pizza. With nothing left tying her down, she stood from her metal seat in the Manhattan Mall food court and moved quickly to dispose of her stained paper plate in a nearby trash bin. She returned to the mesh table so she could retrieve four shopping bags from under it then continued on her mission.

Toothbrush? Check. Hairbrush? Check? Bathing supplies? Check. Woman supplies? Check. A few changes of clothes? Check.

Though she had gone through the list multiple times in her head, April still could not shake the feeling that something was missing. But what more could there be? She had clearly covered the basics of necessity, so…what? By now she was wandering up and down the strip of mall shops in hopes something—anything—would spark a reminder as to what she had apparently forgotten. Unfortunately, no such luck had arisen, so the woman was left with a hollowness nagging at her memory.

'_Well, I've already gone beyond what I promised to pick up. Nia said she would reimburse me for all this, but I still have to lug it back home._'

April groaned. Now that was not something she was looking forward to. Four bags into her trip and the blood refused to circulate though her arms. She wished then that Casey had come along as her grunt man, but he had stayed at the apartment for a good reason, to watch over Nia.

The young woman was finally talking, albeit by a small amount. Yesterday she had even emerged from her temporary room for the first time in three straight days, and sat down for dinner. Only a select few times in April's life have surpassed the amount of relief she felt at that very moment. The redhead had not expected Casey to make much of an improvement with her at all, yet it seemed his inability to be sensitive actually had a positive effect on the woman's depression. How that played out, April will never understand. Perhaps some people just ticked that way.

Yes, the first steps to recovery were coming along slower than expected, but they came along nonetheless. Even so, several issues still remained that required attention only Nia can give.

'_Ah, but I fear if I bring up funeral arrangements now she'll revert further into that shell of hers. It's like walking on eggshells around her; she's so sensitive. Or it could be I'm over-thinking it all, and she really does need a stern hand…hum, maybe Casey should bring it up then…Ugh, I don't know._'

Shaking her head free of any further thoughts, April veered off track for one last break before heading home. She planted herself on a wooden bench (ensuring her purchase was secure) and allowed her mind a rare chance to clear. Minutes passed. April sat, staring blankly at the ever-shifting crowd as a form of meditation. By the stroke of four in the afternoon, ten minutes later, the redhead had her fill. She stretched her arms in preparation for the journey to the subway; however, no sooner did she grip the handle of a red shopping bag did a husky voice reach her ears.

"You're in danger."

'_What the—_'

"No, don't turn, Miss O'Neil; it's best no witnesses see us speaking."

Green eyes narrowed in an instant, not towards the man leaning against the bench from behind, but towards a mirrored water fountain that served as this rest area's focal point. In its warped reflection she could make our nothing more than a dark, tall figure.

"How do you know my name?" questioned April, calm in spite of a flipping stomach.

"Information has been my job for years now, Miss O'Neil," the man answered calmly. "It wasn't that hard to recover your profile though…means."

"And what would you need my profile for exactly?"

"A good scientist always does his research. You know this."

April scoffed. "_You're_ a scientist?"

"Yes," answered the man frankly.

"…Fine. Then what do you want with me?"

"To keep you safe, of course." He spoke these words as if the answer were painfully obvious. "If it was that easy for me to gain the right information from police then it will only be a matter of time before you're approached by _him_ as well."

"And who's 'him'?"

"Someone with an unprecedented drive to get what he wants."

"Yeah, that helps me."

"Sarcasm is not appreciated, Miss O'Neil. I'm trying to help you."

"Forgive me," April replied tartly. "It's a little hard to trust such a claim from someone unwilling to show me their face or give me their name."

"Believe me," the man said, "it's for the betterment of all."

"Sure it is."

"Miss, O—"

"How about this?" the redhead interjected. "You stay here and I'll head home? I don't know what you want from me, but you're not getting it, not like this." So, with a huff, April gathered her bags and stood. As quick as she took a step forward, a surprisingly strong hand gripped her upper arm and forced her back on the bench.

"Don't," the male hissed.

"Hey!"

"Keep your voice low. The last thing we need to draw is attention."

The woman finally snapped her head to the side for a good look at the person keeping her captive. She was met with steely dark eyes that were shaded by a large, cable beanie and an expression that spoke volumes of experience. She did not conclude this simply because of the deep wrinkles lining his pale face or the full mustache that added a decade to his real age. She concluded this because the man seemed absolutely set in his ways.

"If you aren't going to give me a straight answer then I'm going to leave," April snarled. "Whether or not I do so with you on your back or not will be your decision."

The man fought a smile. "Quit so. I'm sorry about this, Miss O'Neil. I would rather you not be involved at all. Regrettably, something has recently landed in your care that I need."

April raised a groomed eyebrow. "In my care? Are you talking about my shop? Because last shipment I got came three weeks ago and it was mostly vases. No one goes through this kind of trouble for a vase. They usually just steal it."

"This isn't about a vase."

"Then what _is_ it about?" April had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

"What I need was given to you by one Detective Hugh Reese."

"Nia…"

"Miss Anders has something of…personal value," he continued. "You let me take her, I can protect her. And she can give me what I need in return."

"Protect her from what?" The female's glare was back, heated ten-fold with suspicion.

"You ask too many questions, Miss O'Neil," he replied.

"I think I have a right to in this case."

"You don't understand. She isn't safe with you!" The man's patience had waxed thin, as apparent by his downturned mouth and inflamed nostrils. He retorted with an equally heated glare, his once-forgotten grip tightening on April's right arm until she winced.

"I warned you," she said prior to punching him square in the face.

It must have come as an utter surprise because the male immediately loosened his hold to tend a nose that April no doubt had broken. The redhead had just enough time to grab two bags before he regained composure, and by that point she had rounded a corner out of sight. A couple of by-passers watched with confused expressions as she tore through them. Perhaps they even thought her insane, but she had not the time to be embarrassed while being chased. April glanced over her shoulder at the parted trail she left behind and grimaced at the blur of gray catching up to her, fast.

'_I thought he said we shouldn't draw attention to ourselves,_' she thought with a roll of her eyes. If needs be she could stand and fight. She would rather not do so in public, though. '_Well, most assume it's always the female in trouble so—_'

"Help! That man's trying to kidnap me!" April screamed in a shrill tone. It was all she could think to do to stop him, and it worked. Several men (even a woman) seized his arms, which proved effective enough for April to descend two flights of stairs to the subway station below. After a quick swipe of her pass she boarded the nearest railcar, her will for the doors to shut increasing with every moment passed.

"Wait!" the man cried over the crowd noise.

"Dammit!" An exasperated groan passed through April's lips. "Come on, close! Close!" By now the woman left her bags by her feet to pull on the railcar's doors as if she could slam them together. A strange sight indeed, but again, April did not have time to be concerned; the unnamed man was approaching through a dense throng of commuters.

Ding! The doors finally slid shut for an effective glass barricade when the man reached her. He cursed, more than likely, and shook his head in frustration. April puffed out her chest over her victory, smirked even, yet once she locked eyes with the man as the train began moving, her stance deflated immediately. There were evident streams of tears flowing down his face that the lanky man did not bother wiping away.

April frowned. '_What bad guy cries like that?_' she thought.

To make things all the more confusing, just before the train disappeared into darkness, another man entered the scene. He approached the so-called scientist with an overbearing aura that had the former backing up in either fear or disgust. He did not need to remove his sunglasses for April to identify him, for she already knew him far better than she would have liked.

* * *

"Here ya go," Casey said as he handed over a warm mug to Nia on the couch. He smirked when she wrapped her petite hands around it then situated himself on the cushion beside her, taking several gulps from his own mug.

"Thank you, Mister Jones," Nia replied softly. By the time the woman had spoken up, Casey had already turned his attention back to wrestling on television.

"Do I gotta say it again?" the man asked, snorting. "Stop callin' me t'at; it makes me feel like a—Just call me Casey, I really dun't mind it." Nia simply nodded in return, though judging by her hesitation she seemed everything but convinced. Casey shook his head. "Do ya like yer chamomile tea?"

Again, Nia nodded, silent.

"Are ya sure I didn't forget anyt'in' t'is time?"

Once more, she nodded, impassive face starring at the television.

Casey's lips pursed. Always nodding or shaking her head. How come this woman lacked a vocabulary? She no longer ignored the duo, but at the same time nothing changed. She was just as quiet, prompt and respectful with her replies (when there were any), and rarely moved from the couch during the day. She seemed on edge almost, which confused Casey beyond reason. Were he and April not being very hospitable? If this did not change soon, Casey might find himself yelling at her again for some form of real reaction.

"So…why dun't ya tell me about yer mom and dad?" he asked easily. "What kind of people were t'ey?" At the words 'mom and dad' Nia's body visibly tensed, her knuckles whitening around her mug to the point where Casey feared she just may crack the ceramic. She still kept her vision forward; however, Casey had already spotted her light sigh and blinking eyes. "Ya can talk about t'em, ya know? It's healthy even. Come on, try it. What did t'ey do for a livin'?"

For several seconds Nia merely stared at Casey, as if assessing his credibility, then, with some effort, she finally replied in a soft voice. "My…Mama was a realtor for Irvin Realty Cooperation and Daddy taught molecular biology at Lyngavaer Medical College…"

"Is t'at so? T'ose are some high-class careers." The female nodded. "T'ey must'a made good money."

Nia shrugged. "They worked hard," she said, "but we weren't rich per say. Daddy….Daddy always did his best to make sure we were happy. I grew up with him teaching me the value of hard work since he knows—knew how valuable it is. He wasn't born into a middle-class family."

"What kinda class was he born into t'en? Us little poor folks class?" Casey meant for that to be more teasing, but he did find himself slightly offended for some reason.

"I—I don't know."

"Ya dun't?"

She nodded, a flicker of confusion passing over her expression. "Daddy never talked about his family or upbringing, just that he started from the bottom. He said that was all in the past and that's where it belonged…"

"So what about yer mom?"

"She was very helpful with me and liked to give out presents," Nia said with a painful tenderness. "She would always know how to calm daddy down whenever he got real upset. It…was like a superpower. I wasn't told much about her family either. She had an older brother who died four years ago. I've never seen him before then, I don't think. I saw my grandparents for the first time at his funeral, but…they never once looked at me or my father. Now that I think about it, I don't think we were supposed to be there…"

"Bad blood, eh?" questioned Casey.

"I guess." Nia frowned. "They didn't like to talk about it."

"Ah, so t'at's where ya get it from."

"Get what?" The woman's eyebrows knit in confusion as Casey sent her a grin.

"Never mind," he said, finishing off his drink. Soundless, Nia gave her own mug a lazy examination before sipping it, expression still contemplating. She really did not understand? "T'ey sound like t'ey were good folk, Nia. We'll be sure to 'tend t'eir funeral as well. If ya dun't mind, t'at is." Casey glanced towards Nia, who shook her head of long hair. Her bottom lip began trembling and with one look at her now ragged breath, Casey grew quiet.

'_Damn. I didn't want her to cry._'

"I—I'm sorry," Nia managed to choked out. She set her mug beside her closed sketchbook on the wooden coffee table so she could wipe away persistent tears that had swelled in her eyes.

"Ya dun't gotta apologize. But I will for bringin' up the funeral… ya know yer gunna have to start t'inkin' about it soon, t'ough, right?" She gave a solemn nod. "Good. Now…how about we start t'inkin' about dinner? I, for one, am starvin'." Casey heaved his body off the couch and collected Nia's mug before strolling into the well-lit kitchen. "So, what will it be? Chinese? Italian?"

Nia turned on the couch. "Wasn't Miss O'Ne—"

"_April_."

"Miss April supposed to pick up ingredients for fish and rice?"

Frowning, Casey glanced at the digital wall clock above the stove, which read '5:18' in the afternoon. "She did, but she's twenty minutes late. She should'a been back by now. Maybe I outa call her."

Nia bite her lip as Casey produced a cell phone from his back jean's pocket. "Do you think she's—"

"We have complications!" Casey about threw his phone in surprise when April's voice echoed in horror. For a moment he thought the device read his mind and instantly patched him through to his girlfriend, but the stomping of feet convinced him the woman was in the apartment.

"April?" he questioned. Blue eyes followed April's frantic movement about the living room. "What's goin' on?" After examining the tops of furniture and knocking over a pile of papers set on the coffee table, she still gave no reply. "April?"

Green eyes snapped up like a prowling mountain lion. "Give me your cell," the redhead snapped, quickly making her way to stand before Casey with a palm upright in expectation.

"Where's yers?" he questioned.

"It's dead and I can't find the house phone. Now hand it over!"

"Alright! Alright!" Casey did as told and scowled as the woman left with no further explanation. "What the hell's goin' on?"

"I'll tell you in a minute."

* * *

Ring! Ring!

Michelangelo gave the telephone little thought when it sounded, his attention instead fixated intently on the video game before him. "The phone's ringing!" he called in hopes that one of his brothers would relieve him of the burden.

Ring! Ring!

"Hey, _guys_! I said the phone's ringing!" There was no answer.

Ring! Ring!

The mutant attempted to block out the relentless annoyance with little result. Having lost his last game life, he abandoned his controller and, letting out an irritated sigh, jumped over the couch. "Fine, I'll get it!" he cried. Yet moments before Mikey could reach the phone, Leonardo stepped in to answer. "Hey!"

"Hello, April," Leo said.

"Ooh! Ooh! It's April?" Mikey grinned, annoyance for his brother already forgotten. "Tell her I said hi, Leo."

"Quiet, Mikey, please. What's wrong, April?" Leo paused. "Why? Are you OK? Did something happen to you?"

Mikey gasped silently at Leonardo's words, panic churning in the pit of his stomach like sour milk. Breath baited, he waited for his brother to react. When the Leo calmed down a bit, so did Michelangelo. However, he could still see the lingering fear behind his brother's intense stare.

"Good," answered the Jonin. "Then why do you need—? …Who? …Well, how well do you know her? …Can't she go to the police instead? …April, I don't know. I mean we're… Are you sure about that?" Leo's eyes narrowed. "So you really—? …OK. OK. OK, April. We'll be right over." Leonardo hung up the phone, sighing. The solemn look on his face as he turned held enough weight to sink Mikey's stomach.

"What's going on?" Michelangelo questioned carefully.

"Go get Donny and Raph," Leo replied.

"Is everything alright?"

"…We're going back to work."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, I guess that push Donny mentioned a little while ago has finally happened. XD


	6. That Frightening Leap

**Author's Note: **And the next one!  
******Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 06 - ****That Frightening Leap**

April emerged from the kitchen into the living room, repressing a sigh. "They'll be here in a bit, around nine or ten," she said. She regarded Nia with a kind smile, but with Casey, a look of refrained apprehensiveness was shared. In private, she had given the man an overview of what happened earlier, and he had helped reassure her of her choice in calling for help. Nevertheless, every fiber of April's reasoning attempted to convince her otherwise.

'_If that man is involved, the guys would be the most experienced in how to handle the situation._

_But Nia has barely lived with me for four days._

_She has been coming to my store since she was twelve. Her father was a good man, I could tell. And Nia doesn't seem like the kind who would do them harm._

_Still, she frightens easy. What if she's thinks them monsters? What if she does hurt them?_

_No, I wouldn't let that happen. I'll prepare her the best I can._'

Inhaling with new purpose and drive, April sank into the couch cushion beside the black-haired female and took a gentle hold of her petite hands. "Nia…I have some questions for you," she started carefully. "I need you to answer them, for your own sake." Teal eyes darted in search for unknown signs on April's grave expression. Shyly, Nia nodded, though April could not be sold on her entire sincerity. "Your father, years ago, worked as a cytologist, right? So, do you know if he was ever involved with any…" She paused to re-think her tactic. "Did he ever work for any obscure government branches? He was always so vague about that, really. What was he involved with?"

Nia's eyes flickered to Casey then back again. "W—well, he worked for a company called Erudio Laboratories. I'm not sure which position, though."

"OK. Do you know of any associations he may have had with other scientists?"

Nia shook her head. "I don't remember any," she said. "Daddy…liked to keep to himself, so unless it was required of him to mingle, he just…spent time with Mama and me…"

"Alright…so you don't know a tall blonde man with a wicked mustache?" April about flinched at the look she received. '_Did I grow a second head or something?_'

"Wicked mus—No," the younger female replied.

The redhead eyed her. "Are you telling me the truth?"

"Yes. W—why? Is something the matter? Why would you need to know these things?"

"Well…" Nia waited with great patience until April sighed. "When I was at the mall, someone approached me, someone who seemed to have a keen interest in you. He wanted me to give you to him." Nia retracted her hands as if April's words held a physical bite. Her eyes widened mildly, and April was sure if it were possible her face would have blanched another shade.

"G—give me over to a stranger?" she managed to yelp after a brief moment of shock.

"Nia, I'm not trying to scare you," said April tenderly. "But he knew your name; he knew you were staying with me. And he would not reveal his identity. I don't think someone would go through such trouble without a substantial reason. You really don't know him?"

Nia hesitated before answering. "No…I take after Daddy. I keep to myself, so…I don't know many people. I don't know anyone like that. Honest, Miss O'Neil."

"April," Casey huffed towards Nia. "Again, I gotta remind ya."

"Does it really matter how she addresses me?" questioned April, her eyes on Casey.

"T'at depends," the man replied. "Do ya like bein' t'ought of as some school teacher?"

"It's called _manners_, something you never learned. I hardly think—"

"Well I t'ink it makes ya sound old. 'Sides, if we're gunna trust her wit' meetin' the guys t'en she has to show some signs of familiarity." Leaning into April from his chair beside the couch, he whispered in a gruff voice, "If she seems more comfortable wit' us, t'en the guys will be less tense when meetin' her, dun't ya t'ink?"

April grimaced. '_That's right_,' she thought. '_Leo, Don, Mikey, Raph—they'll be trusting in us— me—to have faith Nia won't betray them. I was the one to convince them to come, to put them in possible harm. Though I doubt Nia would do anything violent, can she truly feel comfortable accepting them as friends, allies? I hate how vulnerable they must have to feel at times like this; having to take that terrifying leap in trusting another...I must make sure._'

"So, Nia, you have no idea who that man was?" April inquired in her most intrepid tone. A shake of the head. "And you haven't a clue what he would want from you?" Another shake, this one less definite. "Honestly?"

"Yes, Miss April." Though soft, her voice was still strained with desperate frustration.

"OK, we'll believe that; however, I don't think you can stay with me anymore."

"_What_?" Nia cried.

"Sheesh, must ya yell?" Casey snapped. Yet his little outburst went ignored.

"Y—you mean you're going to kick me out?" the young woman continued. "I—I don't know where to go. What would I do? I would be alone. What if—What if—"

"Nia, relax," said April. She vainly fought an amused smile. "I'm not going to kick you out…Well, I am and I'm not. It's a little tricky. Come here." The woman had to regain Nia's hands to keep her from panicking. "Listen. I'm going to help you. In order to do that, I need a promise from you first."

"A promise?" Nia replied, her gaze as timid as her voice.

"Yes…" By instinct, April hesitated. Once more her reasoning flared like a burning flame against her conscious mind, and she had to suck in a deep breath to calm it. After another moment, she continued, voice steady. "Some people are coming over, people who are more experienced in this kind of ordeal then they ought to be."

"OK…and…they can help?"

"Yes, they can," answered April. "They've helped Casey and I nearly twice as many times as we've helped them. They're like family to us, we _love_ them…And we can only hope you come to love them just as much." An impending prickle behind the redhead's eyes served as a painful reminded of the hidden fear she was biting back. "I know…your thoughts about them at first may be…alarming, but please, please, _please_ don't shut them out because of…their physical appearance." Nia's brow had creased into an uncertain frown, so April continued to force her words out carefully. "They saved my life before. When I worked for a scientist named Stockman nearly seven to eight years ago. He had created these horrible mousers meant for theft and when I discovered his plot, he tried to have me killed. The little machines chased me, almost had me, but the guys—my family—fought them off. I may have screamed upon first seeing them. Several times. Then fainted, twice, I think. But they're amazing people." April felt Nia's grip tighten in her hands, trembling, and a strange tingle shot up her arm and down her spine all in the span of two seconds.

"Why would you scream…?" the younger female inquired in a whisper.

The smile that crept across April's face was both nostalgic and loving. "You'll see when they get here," she replied softly. "I just ask that you keep an open mind. You're an artist, right? Doesn't that mean you're supposed to have an open mind anyway? My family cares a lot, even for strangers. Despite all the…aversion and judgments brought onto them by society, they still strive to keep people safe. It's their Bushido way. And I wish _everyone_ could see the beauty in them like I do. Promise me that you'll try hard to see that beauty as well, Nia. _Please_." If possible, April would have reined in the desperation of her last plea. She could not.

Sitting, mouth agape with uncertainty and eyes narrowed in concentration, Nia remained quiet for a long time; so long in fact that April had the chance to contemplate finding Casey's phone again and telling the guys to stay home while she figured out another means of help. Such a fleeting thought proved mute, however, when the young female gave a short, definite nod.

"I won't…judge. I promise."

"Thank you," whispered April.

* * *

The subtle scowl on Leonardo's face never once faltered since his call with April. It remained as a constant reminder of his anxiety, and not without good reason. April was asking much of them. Meeting another human? That was always a huge risk for the clan, she knew this. And yet, as he thought back to it, her phone call required them to take a leap of faith in coming to her.

"_Hello, April."_

"_Ooh! Ooh! It's April? Tell her I said hi, Leo."_

"_Quiet, Mikey, please. What's wrong, April?"_

"_I need you guys over here as soon as possible."_

The bridled fright in her voice had stirred up an equal fear in Leonardo as well.

"_Why? Are you ok? Did something happen to you?"_

"_Huh? No. No. Leo. Well, something did. But I'm not hurt."_

He had calmed down then, but no enough that he could ignore the unease of April's tone_._

"_Good. Then why do you need—?"_

"_I need you to help me with someone."_

"_Who?"_

"_A…friend named Nia Anders. I think she might be in trouble, and you can help her."_

Leo had been almost scared to ask.

"_How well do you know her?"_

"_Uh, she's been coming to my store for years, but I…I've never met her outside of that."_

"_Can't she go to the police instead?"_

He had snapped that without much thought and inwardly cringed at the loss of control.

"_Leo, the police can't help. Trust me."_

He remembered thinking he should. Still, he had not been convinced.

"_April, I don't know. I mean we're—"_

"'_We're what'? Not ready? Don't give me that, Hamato Leonardo. It's been long enough. This is the stuff you guys do, help people…Look. I know you're scared, but you have to move forward. Leo, her home has burned down, her parents lost. That's why she's staying with me. Today…I found out that she may involved with someone dangerous."_

"_Are you sure about that?"_

"_Yes. I swear to you."_

"_So you really—? "_

"_Just get over here and I'll explain things to all of you! Please."_

"_OK. OK."_

"_Seriously, Leo."_

"_OK, April. We'll be right over."_

Michelangelo had helped round up the remaining brothers. Raphael had been as skeptical as Leonardo and Donatello's unease could not be missed, but the youngest Hamato was about bursting with excitement. Convincing them they would go had not been the issue, though. Actually, it had been convincing Splinter of the matter that had been the real challenge.

"_Come in, my son."_

_Leonardo carefully slid the shoji door open and entered his father's room after gaining permission. Outwardly, the ninja appeared calmer than a snoozing cat, but inside him an uncertain anxiety jolted through his heart with every step he took towards his father. Splinter had always been perceptive, so of course he sensed his own son's distress as the latter took his place on a familiar zabuton. The rat straightened his seated form._

"_What troubles you, Leonardo?" he questioned._

_Against his will, the words caught in Leo's throat. What could he say? April had given him little ground to base his argument._

"_Otōsan, I have a question."_

_Splinter's ears twitched upwards in intrigue. "Yes. What is it?"_

_Still, Leo fought for those right words._

"_My son," spoke Splinter in an odd mix of amusement and discomfort, "is the question that terribly difficult?"_

"_Kind of…" Leonardo responded. The rat's whiskers twitched slightly, a sign which Leo translated as worry. "Otōsan," he said calmly, "April called and she's…asked for our help in a matter."_

"_Oh?" Splinter almost smiled. "And this is terrible? You have given much help to O'Neil-san in the past."_

_Dread had Leonardo grimacing. "Yes, but…this time she's asking us to meet someone. A human." There was shift in Splinter's chi, one perhaps only a son could detect, and Leonardo forced himself to catch the steely gaze of his master, his father._

"_Under what basis are you to meet this human?" Splinter inquired._

"_I am hesitant as well, Sensei," Leonardo commented, but his voice soon grew sterner, surer. "However, April has asked this of us. She has known us for eight years. I know she would never purposely lead us into anything we couldn't handle."_

"_Even so, there is always a risk in exposing ourselves…How well does O'Neil-san know this human?"_

_How Leo wished he could have refrained from flinching. "She says…she knows the human from Second Time Around. Apparently, she's been attending it for years."_

"_So this human is merely a customer?" Splinter's voice flexed with sharpness, though Leo knew he probably meant it to be a harmless question._

"_Hai, Sensei. But April insists we help her."_

"_And what is it this human needs help with, Leonardo?"_

_The mutant hesitated before speaking rather uneasily. "April hasn't quite said. She's only mentioned that a fire took her home and that's she's staying with April right now. She says she may be involved with someone dangerous."_

"_May?" Now the rat did not hinder his sharp tone. "Has she mentioned who this dangerous person is? What makes her certain the police cannot help?"_

_Leonardo kept his gaze steady; he had already resolved how he wanted this conversation to end and he would try his upmost best to make it so. "She has sworn to me, Sensei. This human is in trouble, and April is convinced we are the only ones capable of helping." Wary dark eyes remained locked on Leo, unyielding as an old mountain. The blue-banded mutant held fast under such a penetrating gaze and eventually won a calm nod from his master._

"_If you believe you are ready to take on this task, Leonardo, I will not rise against it. You are Jonin, leader of our clan. Your decision will be respected, as I trust you."_

"_And April."_

_A small smile graced Splinter's now-warm countenance. "Of course," he said. "O'Neil-san has proven herself to be part of our clan as well. We cannot deny the plea of our own family."_

"_We're going to leave in a few hours. Mike, Don, and Raph are preparing now. When we get to April's, she said she would inform us of the full story."_

_Splinter nodded. "Very well. I will see you upon your return."_

"_Hai, Sensei." Leonardo gave a bow then left the room._

When night finally fell, the Hamato brothers had filed out of the Lair and moved to the awaiting rooftops of New York City where they began their journey to April's apartment. Leo had noted grimly not five minutes later that their formation lacked unison. At times Mikey would stray too far to one side. Raph would attempt to jump ahead. And Don, well, he could not settle on a pace at all. The leader would correct them, of course. Even so, they seemed to fall back into the habits just as soon as they fixed them. It felt…unnatural, yet he had only himself to blame.

'_It was my responsibility to keep us functioning as a team, even if we weren't patrolling topside. How could I have let us slip this far? A passing month and we have divided to become four independent minds, paths, already. We should have been up here weeks ago, before this point. Now we must face a new obstacle in disharmony…_'

Splinter had told him as much. Still, Leo had refused to listen, his downright crippling fear for his brother's safety blinding him to reason, to the obvious. If a team does not heal together, how can they be expected to fight together? And recently…they had done very little together.

The leader sighed and shook his head. His thoughts should not be dwelling on such things, not right now. He needed a clear mind and obstinate resolve for the challenge ahead. He would have felt more at ease, however, if they did not have to meet a new human. While she may have been affiliated with April, that barely left room for comfort.

"OK, so April really thinks this girl is in the kind of trouble that needs to involve us and not the police?" Don inquired. He vaulted to the next rooftop with the experience only ninjutsu training could give then continue. "Leo, is she sure about this?"

"I've already told you. She swore on it," Leo replied as he took to leaping over a roof shack.

"This all just seems a little sketchy. I trust April, but…" Don sighed. "Who is this girl we're going to meet again?"

Leo landed on a slab on concrete with a barely audible grunt then harnessed his powerful legs to propel himself towards the next ledge. "April said she was a regular customer of her store," he answered. "She's staying with her because…because a fire took her home…and parents."

"A fire?" Michelangelo questioned. The youngest brother encroached on Leo's left flank and when given the chance, flashed a hopeful look. "Leo, do you think it could be…?"

Leonardo shook his head. "I can't say, Mikey. But…I guess there is a chance."

'_If it is her…Mikey will never let me live Saturday night down._'

"A chance'a what, Fearless?" Raphael added gruffly.

The blue-banded ninja spared a cool glance at the brother ahead. "Nothing," Leo responded, short. "It's nothing."

Raph growled slightly, his pace decreasing to match the leader's own. "Am I missin' somet'in'?" he grumbled.

"Yeah, a brain," Mikey chimed in.

"Yer one to talk, shell-for-brains!"

"Leo, April really didn't say any more than that?" This time, Donatello spoke, and Leo had to force his vision ahead to avoid gazing into those nervous brown eyes.

"No," answered Leonardo, landing on another roof. "She said she would explain things when we arrived."

"I…I don't know." The purple-banded mutant sighed. "I'm just…really nervous about this."

"I am too, Don," the Jonin replied. "But if April says we're needed, we are. She's one of the few humans who have accepted us. If we can't trust her, then who can we trust?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Trusting is a scary prospect, it really is. D:


	7. Unique Family

**Author's Note: **I would sincerely like to thank DuckiePray and MysteriousFeather for their valued reviews. They're really helpful, guys! Now, Nia finally meets the guys. Dun dun dun!  
**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 07 - ****Unique Family**

Near ten at night Raphael stood tense in line with his three brothers, awaiting the inevitable response he knew was to come. What else would he expect? It was always the same. Were he human, he would probably scream as well...yet knowing that knowledge did little to make him feel any better about the matter. In fact, it sort of ticked him off, like the human's current silence.

Yelling, fainting, name calling, a hysterical display of fear and flying objects—Raphael had prepared himself for every possibility imaginable. Or so he thought. Never had he meet someone who greeted his brothers and him with pure and utter silence. People were either immediately afraid of the mutants or indifferent, used to abnormities.

Nia Anders proved to be neither of these.

She watched them, features drained of emotion by what Raphael could only assume was genuine shock. Her body was stiff, as if she had frozen in time the moment the Hamato brothers entered April's living room. The only thing that kept the mutant from believing this fleeting thought was her eyes, her teal eyes. They were distant, more confused than frightened, and very much in motion. Several times they darted over the group of terrapins, searching, studying. He could feel her gaze sliding across the details of his body, and it made him unbearably awkward.

Shifting anxiously, Raphael growled deep in his throat—a dangerous sound. He refused to look at Nia until her eyes fell on someone else, Michelangelo. The orange-banded mutant had stepped forward, a wide grin on his face that looked more excited than friendly.

"Hi, my name is Michelangelo, after the Italian Renaissance artist," he said (perhaps a little too eager), "but you can call me Mike or Mikey." He outstretched a three-fingered hand towards the female as he abandoned the lineup, and Raphael had to refrain from smacking him upside the head. Did he remember nothing from meeting April?

As expected, Nia gasped quietly and pushed herself further back into the plush couch to avoid his touch. However, instead of wordlessly judging the mutant with disgusted eyes, she furred her dark brows in confusion, mouth somewhat agape; almost as if she recognized him from a distant dream.

"Uuuh…" she rasped.

'_T'is chick is tryin' too hard to talk,_' Raphael thought with a shake of his head.

"Don't be scared." Mikey had recovered from the drawback as quick as whiplash and now he was kneeling in front of the woman. He reached beside her rigid figure to grab a decorative pillow, which he placed in her lap to grasp. "We're going to help you, dudette."

What followed next could be described as nothing less than both amusing and confusing. Nia spoke up in rushed sentences, Mikey retorting back equally as fast.

"Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni was born at Caprese, Italy on March sixth, fourteen-seventy-five."

"I was born in a sewer."

"The place is now referred to as Caprese Michelangelo."

"Well, I mutated in a sewer."

"He was one of five brothers."

"I only have three."

"His strengths included sculpting, painting, architecture, engineering, and poetry."

"I can paint a little."

"He was a solitary man who lived by necessary and took no pleasure in eating or drinking."

"That sounds rather boring."

"He died at the age of eighty-eight in Rome then was transported to Florence."

"Hum, that's not a bad age to die."

Suddenly, the female grew silent once more, leaving Raphael to share a look with Donatello and Leonardo that asked 'what just happened?' Both brothers shrugged in response, and when he sent the same expression to Casey and April, they replied in a similar manner.

'_Well, t'at settles it,_' Raph thought. '_T'is chick is weird._'

"Guys, she's not shaking so much now. Introduce yourselves!" Jumping up, Michelangelo eagerly pushed two of the three Hamatos forward, a grin plastered across his face. Leonardo grimaced at his younger brother's actions, yet made no motion to reprimand the joyous spirit. He took one careful step beside Donatello before something had him hesitating. No one but a Hamato would be able to notice the subtle widening of Leo's eyes behind his mask or the way his fingers twitched at his sides. A realization.

Raphael's eyes narrowed. '_What's wit' Leo and Mikey? Do t'ey know t'is chick or somet'in'?_'

"My name is Hamato Leonardo."

"You're named after Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci?" Nia's words left her lips quick but were soft, spoken with an underlying fear.

Leonardo nodded then paused as if torn between decisions. The stiffness of his form slowly began to ease and a small smile found its way to his wide mouth. "Call me Leonardo, if you like. Casey, April, and my clan, however, call me Leo. I don't mind either. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Anders." Ever so faithful to their traditions, Leo bent slightly at the waist to form a shallow bow.

"It's a Japanese t'ing," Casey said upon seeing Nia's confused expression. "The guys are ninja. Real kickass ones at t'at." The raven-haired female nodded as if Casey's words were invalid then awaited the introduction of the next terrapin.

Donatello grinned, though not as wide as their hyperactive younger sibling. "Hi. I'm Hamato Donatello," he said.

"Donato di Niccolò di Betto Bardi?"

"Uh…if you mean if that's who I'm named after then, yes…Raph?"

At the persistent nudge of Leo (who he glared at), the last 'unknown' turtle spoke up in a thick Brooklyn accent, "Name's Raphael. Ya can call me Raph."

"After Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino?"

Raphael shrugged offhandedly, and Nia's face flushed that much more.

"Hey, be nice now, Raph," Casey said, half-serious, half-joking.

Raphael rolled his eyes. "I am bein' nice, Head Case."

"Yer charmin' smile says so."

"Come on, you two," April interjected. "The last thing we need now is a fight." The woman shook her head when the stubborn males scoffed at each other.

"Alright. Now that introductions have been made, why don't you tell us why we're all here, April?" Everyone turned their attention to Donatello, who eyed the redhead with studious brown orbs. "Leo said you would be explaining when we all got here."

"Uh, yeah, I kind of bombarded him with…other stuff in our conversation," replied April sheepishly. "So I didn't give him much to work with. I'm sorry about that Leo."

"It's…fine, Ape," the Jonin replied.

"Anyways," the woman continued, "I'm still trying to piece together things in my head."

"So ya called us over here to explain t'ings t'at confuse ya?"

"Relax, Raph," April said, sharp. "I know _what_ I saw; I just can't fathom _why_ I saw it."

The hothead deadpanned.

"What did you see, April?" Leonardo questioned.

"It's more like who I saw," the woman answered.

"Are ya playin' games wit' us or somet'in'?"

"Raph, knock it off."

"Shut it, Fearless!"

"Guys!" Donatello stood between his two brothers, cringing at their tones of voice. "Let April just explain as she likes. Go on, Ape."

All attention was brought back to the redhead, who inhaled a calming breath as she prepared herself for her next words. "Today I saw… Agent Bishop."

* * *

Leonardo kneeled on the wood floor, his posture composed and his breathing steady in spite of all that he just heard. April had been calm in her explanation, but that did not mean Nia could stand hearing a re-telling of the past few days. Leo's new acquaintance had scrambled to her room before April even mentioned spotting Bishop. None bothered to chase her, though, for they all knew she had a right to be scared. She would be given time to comprehend things while they tried their hand at hashing out answers themselves.

"So that's why the police can't be involved," Leonardo said after a tense pause. His eyes were set on April.

The redhead nodded from her seat on the couch, just between Casey and Donatello. "Yeah. It's too much of a risk."

"That guy's bad news…"

"Yeah, Brainiac. We all know t'at."

"_Raph_."

"What, Leo? Ya wanna state the obvious as well?"

Leonardo glared at the red-banded ninja leaning against the apartment window, yet remained silent. Speaking up would only encourage his bad mood.

"Um, guys, if we can get back to the point?" Casey's accent sliced through the brother's staring contest. "I t'ink April's sayin' t'at ya four will be the only ones qualified enough to keep Nia safe until we can figure t'ings out."

"Believe me," added April, "if I felt there was any other choice, I would take that route. But police records pin her with me, so Bishop could easily—"

"No, April," Leo spoke, smooth. "Even if there were another way, we wouldn't leave you to handle that scientist—let alone Bishop—on your own. We've dealt with things like this before, and we can do it again."

"I know…"

"Don't sweat it, Ape!" Michelangelo exclaimed. "We can do this." Hopping up from his spot beside Leonardo at the coffee table, the orange-banded mutant wrapped his old friend in a comforting hug.

Leonardo smiled. Mikey could always sense people's inner feelings. It is not as if the leader had been blind. Experience alone told him his oldest human friend worried for their health as well as Nia's own. He appreciated her for that.

"We'll take Nia and make sure she stays safe and sound," Mikey continued. "Then, we can defeat the crazy guys like the awesome ninja we are!"

"You make it seem so simple," Donny responded with a low groan.

"Like Leo said, we've done it before." Mikey only allowed a part of his brother's words to tarnish his glee.

"Yes, we have," Don said, "but we've done so by beating Bishop down and hiding. If Nia's being tracked by an unnamed scientist, that's one thing. But if Bishop's really involved do you think she'll be able to integrate back into society without some incentive keeping him at bay?" Donatello's comment hit Leonardo like a freight train.

'_He's right. After years of fighting, Bishop still yearns to discover the secrets lying in our genes. It's like a sick obsession that waxes his morals. He's stubborn and resourceful. He'll never give up trying to catch any and all mutants and aliens…Wait. Mutants and aliens…_'

"Hey, April?" Leonardo questioned. "Nia's human, so how does Bishop fit into the picture at all?"

"That's where I'm at a loss," the redhead replied.

Donatello tapped a finger against his chin. "You saw him approach that scientist at the subway station...Could it be that Bishop isn't after her at all, and it's a coincidence the two men know each other?"

"No," April answered. "When the scientist talked with me, he hinted that Bishop was searching for her as well. I don't know anyone else with 'an unprecedented drive to get what he wants.' It couldn't be coincidence he was there today. It was crazy. The scientist seemed quite adamant that _he_ should be the one to keep Nia safe."

"Meaning, he's either a good guy or someone with similar intentions to Bishop's. Whatever those may be."

"As far as I can gather."

A small pause swept over the room then, until Michelangelo spoke.

"Hey, what did this guy look like?"

"What?" April's brows drew together.

Mikey gave her a goofy expression, and Leo knew why. "I want to see something," the youngest said, still grinning.

"Uh, OK. Late forties to early fifties, pasty complexion, and dark eyes. He wore nice clothes under an untied trench-coat, but they could have used a good washing. Or two."

"Did he have light hair with a poofy mustache and stand kind of tall and lanky?"

April blinked. "Y—yeah. How did you know that?"

"I've met him before," Mikey replied plainly. "I wanted to see if he was the same guy I've been thinking of and he is."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, Mikey," added Raphael. "What _are_ ya talkin' about?"

Michelangelo sent the sai master a smile just to spite him.

Leo sighed. "Mikey—"

"Didn't I tell you I thought something was haunting her, Leo? Didn't I tell you that I had a weird feeling? What do you have to say _now_?" Mikey spoke these words with more offense than haughtiness, which had Leo frowning in mild shame at not having trusted his brother more. He would not apologize, though; he had done nothing less than he would have given he did believe the youngest Hamato.

"Ya're in on t'is too, Fearless?"

"I'm not 'in' on anything, Raph," Leonardo responded. "Mikey had left to Lair, so I went to find him. We dealt with a situation that came up. End of story."

"What kind of situation?" This time April butted in, obviously curious.

"We stopped her from being kidnapped," Mikey answered with a slight frown.

"Kidnapped?"

"Yes. From that very guy that you described at the mall."

"Wait." The woman paused. "Nia hasn't told me anything about an attempt at kidnap."

The orange-banded mutant shrugged. "Maybe she doesn't remember? The man knocked her out mighty hard."

With a low groan, April allowed her head to fall into her hands. She was tired, Leo could tell. The day had been long, and it was doubtful they would get any further into their thoughts tonight without starting to snap at one another. So, Leonardo rose to his feet, ignoring the hard eyes of his hot-blooded brother, and motioned for Donatello and Michelangelo to do the same.

"If that scientist ran into Bishop, it's hard to say what will happen next," he said. "They could both come after her as a team, or they could delay one another. We'll take her back to the Lair, but not tonight. I believe it is best you talk with her first, April, because if we don't have her full cooperation, we won't be of much use to her."

"Yeah," Raphael grumbled, "even April loosened up faster t'en t'at chick."

It may have been fatigue, but Leo lacked any drive to reprimand his brother. Instead, he sent over a lazy glare then sighed.

"She can't be faulted for that," he commented, herding the three to a now open window. "We're a unique family, after all."

* * *

Agent John Bishop's tense arms supported the leaning weight of his upper body on top of a mahogany desk. The man slowly sucked in a deep breath in an effort to collect his rage. Nevertheless, strong fingers found their way to the wooden lip, cupping it, splintering it. No one ever denied him information. No one. He was at the top of the information food chain, and that is where he deserved to stay. All these threats—these monsters—they must be dealt with, yet_ that man_ dared impede his mission.

Bishop would not stand for it.

"Sir?" a feminine voice questioned. Bishop glanced up, towards the bun-sporting carrot-top standing at his door way. He need not ask for her to continue; his hard stare said that much. "What are your next orders?"

"Heal him," the man replied in a tone contrary to the anger raging inside him. "Then start over. Do it until he talks, Miss Lombardo."

"I will begin preparations immediately, Sir."

"See that you do."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ah, who doesn't love Bishop? Anyone? No? Well, there's reasons for that, I guess. Haha!


	8. Home After Home

**Author's Note: **Alright, folks, last chapter for the week. I'm not sure when the next one will be out since I'm about to go on vacation for a week, haha.  
**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 08 - ****Home After Home**

April spared one last glimpse at the beige chinos that barely clung to Nia's wide hips and grimaced. "Are you sure it fits alright?" she questioned, uncertain; the younger woman border-lined a gangster at this rate with only her timid expression to suggest otherwise.

"It—it's fine," Nia answered as she tugged the leather belt tighter in an attempt to keep the oversized pants up.

"Well, at least the shirt fits." April sighed. "I'm sorry I don't have anything shorter. The two bags with your clothes were left at the mall when…"

Nia shook her head, a strained smile spreading on her lips. "It's OK, Miss April. Really. Though I do wish I had a pair of tights; my legs feel naked without them…" Spinning, Nia glanced again at the mirror that draped squarely on the back of April's closet door. Though the pants were obviously too long, hiding her feet, they seemed just as comfortable as the deep purple shirt that hugged her chubby, pear-shaped frame. April grinned at the genuine despair on the younger woman's face.

"Well, next time I go to the store I'll be sure to pick you up some," she said.

"I—I'm so sorry to make you pick up all these things for me," Nia replied.

"Are you going to pay me back?"

"H—huh? Well…of course."

"Then don't worry about it. Besides, it's best you remain out of public eyes for a bit. At least while Bishop and that scientist are doing Lord knows what…_Nia_?"

Now walking towards April's bedroom door, Nia froze. She tried at all possible to avoid April's penetrating green eyes, even when the redhead left the bed to stand by her side. She simply folded her arms over her small breasts and turned away, as if doing so would make her invisible.

April frowned. "Nia, are you sure you don't know either of those men?"

"I don't," responded Nia in a whisper.

"Yeah, that is not the body language of someone who doesn't know what's going on."

"I said I _don't_," the teal-eyed female replied, this time sterner. "I don't know either of them. Why would I?"

The redhead sighed. "That's not what Mikey told us last night. He said that scientist had tried to kidnap you once before. Is that true?"

Nia either refused to speak or was lost in thought. Either way, she remained silent.

"Nia," April said, though she knew the former would not look up, "If you really want our help, then you're going to have to trust us. I took you into my home when I didn't have to. Now, my family is going to take you into theirs, to protect you. None of us want to see you hurt, but if you—" she struggled for the right word "—dismiss that help, we can't do anything. And in the end, it will be all of us who suffer. Do you understand?"

Without looking up, Nia replied, soft, "I do and I can honestly say I don't know either that scientist or this Agent Bishop you told me about earlier."

Whether or not she was telling the truth, April could not tell; however, five days experience told her she would get no further into the matter. So, sighing, April backed off and allowed Nia to exit the room. The dark-haired female did so with a haste that had sudden apprehension bubbling in the pit of April's stomach as she stood in the open doorway.

Did Nia understand? Did she really understand? Or was she merely avoiding the matter out of fear? The guys were willing to take her under their care, to allow her a temporarily position in the clan just as April and Casey now were. But could Nia return that generosity? Would she grow to protect their existence as fiercely as April did? These questions gave rise to serious doubts about whether or not Nia could handle any upcoming trials. Why did April even take on the burden of a grieving girl again?

"_Look. I'm not a doctor and I'm not a psychiatrist, but I've seen enough in life to know this girl needs someone right now, someone she trusts. She's taking this news worse than any of the others…Acquaintance or no, that young woman asked for you, so as far as I'm concerned, you're the only one who can help her through this."_

Right, Detective Reese. He convinced her. Somehow.

For a brief moment, part of April wished she had not given in. After all, her family was still burdened with their own emotions. Could they really handle this mystery when their own demons possibly ran rampant? Or did she just advocate the beginning of a disaster? She could only hope not.

But really, what choice did any of them have?

* * *

"Ya've see how easily she clams up, Fearless. We ain't gunna get anywhere wit' t'at chick. Field work is our best bet and ya know it!"

"You're being hasty, Raph. We haven't even given her a chance yet."

"Che, yer only sayin' t'at because ya haven't grown keen to the idea of bein' topside again."

"That's not true. I'm simply doing what's best for the clan."

"And who are ya to decide what's best for all of us? Have ya asked any of our opinions?"

"I am Jonin."

"Dun't throw t'at in my face!"

"It's only a fact."

"Whatever, Fearless. We just need to go out and do somethin'. If Bishop's hangin' around town, why not just pay him a visit?"

"You're kidding me, right? That's not progress, that's reckless stupidity."

"It beats sittin' around t'is dump waitin' for a bone to be thrown at us!"

'_Ugh, here they go again…_'

Donatello groaned, shifting more weight on the bo staff he held upright in his hands. Really, this past month it seemed all those two did was bicker, bicker, bicker. Raphael would be especially irritable and Leonardo would have understandable trouble coping with the hothead's sharp words. They were like an old married couple, but Don would not dare tell either of them that. Even Leo would have a punch in store.

It had been no more than fifteen minutes since Nia left their presence to meet their master. Already, the two brothers were at one another's throats. Mikey had tried to interject once or twice to no avail. It seemed the duo were intent on settling things between themselves.

Donny had to admit that he was intrigued with each standing; however, he wished they would debate in softer voices. Raphael obviously wanted to plunge head-first into the mystery (as per usual), while Leonardo argued that they ought to take things slow and steady. Nia was with them, she could not get any safer than that, right? So what would be the point in rushing? True. But it is not like they wanted to dilly dally either.

Call Donatello the middle man. He saw reasons why they should keep their distance for a time, and he saw reasons why field work would benefit them more. Unfortunately, it is not like he could voice these opinions. In the eyes of those two stubborn ninja, you were either on one side or the other. That left the turtle genius with no other choice but to await a conclusion.

Which just may be a while.

"You're impossible," Leo hissed with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh? What makes yer choice all the more mighty?" Raphael rolled his eyes as well.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it involves _common sense_?"

"If we went yer way, we'd be old and saggy before we made any moves!"

"You're over-exaggerating."

"At t'is rate I'm not. Hell, it's been a _month_ since we've been on patrol!"

Leonardo scoffed. "If I recall, you've been on patrol since then."

"Dun't act like ya haven't broken yer own little 'rule'," countered Raph. "Stoppin' a kidnappin'? I t'ought ya recognized t'at girl last night."

"That was a one-time occurrence. Besides, I had to find Mikey."

"Hey, don't bring me into this now!" Michelangelo cried.

"Yeah, yer right, Leo," Raph said absentmindedly. Twisting at the waist, the sai master eyed their youngest brother kneeling on the couch, chin resting on its back. "What _were_ ya doin' out t'ere?"

"I was just getting some fresh air," Mikey answered with haste. "Leo came to get me and we just happened to be around Nia's apartment when it caught fire. We saw her and saved her." Blue eyes drifted to the clan leader, pleading…something. Refuge? Dismissal? Forgiveness? Don frowned. Were they keeping some kind of secret?

"A coincidence? Ya really t'ink I'm gunna believe t'at?"

"Yup."

"Fearless."

Three sets of eyes settled on Leonardo as he switched his attention from Mikey to Raph. The eldest paused for a few moments longer then spoke.

"Mikey had met her even before me. He helped her out of the sewers almost two weeks ago, and since then he had been watching over her due to a 'feeling'."

"Leo!" Mikey exclaimed this with genuine hurt. He leapt off the couch and glared at the blue-banded mutant.

"They're our brothers, Mikey," Leo replied, calm. "They have a right to know."

"More like you want them all to watch me as close as _you_ do," the orange-banded terrapin muttered.

"I'm not _that_ bad."

"Yeah, ya are, Fearless."

Leonardo deadpanned.

"Alright, alright. Time out, all of you." Donatello finally spoke up, voice loud and clear. He gained the attention requested, and at their silence he gave them each a pointed stare. "Enough is enough," he said. "We're going around in circles. Just fighting with one another. That won't help us and it won't help Nia. OK, Mikey helped her before. That actually worked in our favor since her claustrophobia probably would have taken a turn for the worse if he didn't know how to prepare her beforehand. I thought that was strange…Anyhow, what we need to do is sit down and make a game plan. Leo? Mikey? You said you've seen that scientist before?"

"Yeah," Mikey replied, sour, "I got a good look at his face."

"Good. Then you can help me shift through public files to see if you recognize anybody. Maybe we can identify him for further information."

"And what do the rest of us do in the meantime, Brainiac?" Raphael inquired with a scowl. "Twiddle our thumbs?" Don rubbed his temple with a single finger, but before he got a chance to respond, Leo answered.

"We'll train; we're a little out of practice as a group."

"And whose fault is t'at?"

"Raph, I swear—"

"Just _stop it_!" The sudden sharp voice of Michelangelo startled them all. Their baby brother glared at them with what seemed to be a mix of exasperation, abhorrence, and disbelieve. It was a rather unnatural and disturbing site, Don decided. "Can you two just _pretend_ to get along? This isn't about us now! This is about helping, making sure someone doesn't get hurt. If you two can't put aside your petty arguments—for a short while, at least—then we really won't be able to do any good. Can't you understand? Nia's scared and upset, like we've been for the last thirty-five days."

"Mikey…you have the days counted?" Leonardo asked, soft.

"Never mind that," the youngest snapped. "What I'm saying is that if we don't finally make an honest effort to pull ourselves together then we won't be of any use. How can she place her faith in us if we act like this around her? I know we need her to cooperate as well, Don, so if anything_ I'm_ going to try and be her friend."

"Mikey—"

"No, I'm done talking, Leo. I'm going to make sure the new bedroom is ready for her tonight." That being said, Michelangelo stalked to a back room, leaving a negative aura in his place.

"He's so sensitive about the matter," Raphael stated after a passing of silence.

Leonardo remained quiet, so Donatello took it upon himself to say something. "Did you expect anything less?"

"I guess not. Che, I'm gunna train." Then, Raph too left the living room.

Don stared at the only remaining brother, who stood still as a statue in thought. "Leo?"

"He counted the days," Leonardo whispered.

Don half-smiled. "I'm actually not all that surprised," he replied. "After all, he had been one of the ones to…" The genius trailed off, unable to finish his thought. Even in his mind it sounded too bitter.

"Hey, Don?" Leo called. Don grunted his acknowledgement. "This time will go differently." Leonardo's statement sounded more like a question.

"Honestly, it depends on a lot of things," relied Donatello with a weak smile. "But with Mikey pushing us through...I think this time may be different."

* * *

Master Splinter's body was rock-solid, not once moving from its kneeling position on the zabuton below it. With steady eyes he surveyed the fidgeting figure before him as a father would to the first date brought back by his only daughter—or in this case, his sons. He had no intention of intimidating the woman. Rather, he sought to welcome her the best way he could given the circumstances. Nevertheless, concern still weighed heavily on his chest, and that translated to a rather hard stare that Splinter could not resist.

'_O'Neil-san has certainly brought us a challenge. Bishop's assumed involvement only aids in my leery discomfort, but I trust my sons to make wise choices. O'Neil-san has been faithful to our clan, so I will trust her judgment as well. I just pray…this woman's settlement will be more…pleasant than O'Neil-san's stay all those years ago…_'

Splinter repressed a sigh, regarding Nia with his chin tilted up. "Be at ease, young one; I mean you no harm," he spoke, gentle, when the human began to squirm uncomfortably.

'_This child's fear rolls off her like crashing waves. Such chi will only bring discomfort to herself and those around her…_'

"I'm sorry, Mister Splinter." The response Nia gave was hasty, panicked, and very soft. "I'm just…thinking. I don't like being underground very much. It's—It's…hard."

"May I inquire as to what it is you are thinking about?" Splinter awaited, ever patient, for a reply. When her only reaction came in labored breaths, the rat's eyes softened.

'_I believe Michelangelo told me Anders-san has a phobia of the underground. Even if coming to our home was a last resort, she is admirable for attempting to conquer such a fear. Or at least, endure it. What is it she occupies her mind with as a distraction?_'

"I…I'm thinking about my family…" Nia finally answered.

"Ah, yes. I have heard of the calamity that has recently befallen them, Miss Anders. I am most sorrowful for you. Losing family"—the rat drew in a breath, sudden and short, though the wound of his master had long since healed—"it is a horrible occurrence, and to endure the grief that follows leaves you feeling as if it will never end. But it will with time, child. I promise…Miss Anders, are you well?"

Despite her bowed head, Splinter's sensitive nose detected tears slipping one by one down the young woman's face, and soon her body began trembling as well. An urge to outstretch a paw in comfort overcame the rat, but he held it at bay in the knowledge that doing so may cause Nia to cry harder or even run. So, he remained stationary, awaiting a break in the female's emotions before making any further comments.

"Have faith, young one," he said, "do not be strayed by sorrow and fear. Aijou and meiyo, love and honor, must be your guides, your protectors. Trust in them, in my clan, and yourself. In time, you will find…release of this tribulation."

Nia lifted her gaze slightly, enough for Splinter to notice a range of emotions pass over her face like a rainbow. The transition lasted no more the two seconds, and by the end her expression settled into an emotionless grin.

"Thank you…" she said.

There, he spotted it, a flicker in her eyes that momentarily showed a trace of disbelief, fear, and distress. "Something more is troubling your mind, Miss Anders?" The human remained silent. "I see." The master smiled. "Do not worry; I shall not pressure you into telling me. But I do ask that you take my words to heart. This grief you feel regarding your parents, do not let it smolder within you. It is a monster, one that can drag even the most cheerful spirit down into a pit of darkness that will swallow them up without any thoughts of letting them go. I know that pain well, the lost helplessness you must feel. But you cannot allow that monster drag you down, Miss Anders."

"I…I understand."

'_But do you believe?_'

The unmistakable pain spoken in the young woman's words left doubt in the wizen rat's heart; however, he knew well the limits of others. "Our home is open to you, Miss Anders," said Splinter. He was surprised himself how easily he could withhold uncertainty from his voice. "Pain is not forever. Merely have faith. Now, why not go see Michelangelo? He seems quite excited at making a new friend."

* * *

"There, prefect!" Michelangelo stepped back from his masterpiece then nodded.

It looked great! Or at least good enough with what could be expected from a back room that had once been used as weapon storage. Mikey had long-since cleared out the blades and spikes, of course, and stashed the overflow in Raphael's room for the fun of it. However, even then the remaining space could not be considered large enough for a bedroom. It was more like a cell. Thankfully, with a touch of Michelangelo magic, he made the space seem cozy rather than unpleasant.

A salvaged cot lay flushed against the inside wall of the six-by-six foot area, taking up a vast majority of its length. Luckily, Mikey only needed to do a light patch job on it, and that was covered by two comforters he found lying about. Between him and Leo, he even managed to sneak in two pillows, covered with their finest of pillow cases, of course. The bed barely left room for the crate end table that the mutant turtle set up, but he was happy to note it fit at all. On its slightly warped 'top' (covered by a torn table cloth), he placed a lamp stolen from the living room and Nia's nine-by-eleven sketchbook.

In his endeavors, he even found a landscape painting of some farmland. Why they had such a thing, he would never know, but it seemed peaceful enough. He hung that at the foot of Nia's bed, so she could look at it as she fell asleep. Here and there were little decorative details like knick-knacks, mainly anything that looked weird and artsy. She seemed to know a lot about art.

'_Hum, I wonder if I should add in more pictures or if that will make it worse for her. What if—_'

"Sorry about Klunk's hissing. He doesn't usually take kindly to strangers, but he's never been so aggressive with one…Uh, this is where you'll be staying. Forgive us that it isn't much, but…Well, we do what we can." Leonardo's voice drifted into the quaint space moments before he could be spotted. The eldest Hamato lead Nia down the short hall to what could now be considered her room. The dark-haired female looked less than pleased, and Mikey could only assume she must have still felt nauseous at the prospect of being underground. When the duo met Michelangelo, the latter grinned. "I guess you'll take things from here, Mikey," Leo said in response to said ninja guiding Nia into the ex-storage closet. Mikey simply nodded. "Well then…Goodnight, Miss Anders, Michelangelo. Be sure to get some rest."

"He's such a mother hen," the orange-banded mutant said once the eldest was out of ear shot. "But I guess that's his job. Anyway, this is your room, Nia. I spruced it up for you the best I could. Um, it has no doors, being only three walls, but the bathroom is around the corner of the hall. You can use that to change and whatnot. Besides, I didn't put up any partitions so you could feel more open. We don't come near this part of the Lair often, which means I hope it all works in your favor. If you want to change anything though, just say the word. Does it all seem good?"

Nia remained still beside the cot, back turned while she touched the canvas lamp shade with a gentle touch. She nodded her approval, but it was hard to say how far that approval went.

"OK…Well, the things April bought for you are in two bags beside the cot and your statue is on the shelf beside the doorway. Your sketchbook is on side table there, too, in case you missed it. If you change your mind on anything, let me know. Uh…listen," Mikey's tone adopted a more serious darkness, "I know things look grim right now, but I promise, us Hamato brothers will do everything in our power to help you. Just stay strong and have faith, as my father says. Until then, welcome to your home after home. Goodnight, Nia. I hope you sleep well." Mikey flashed one last smile then turned to leave the human to her thoughts.

Just as he stepped foot in the hallway, though, her faint voice called out behind him. "Wait."

Michelangelo did as Nia requested. "Yes?" he questioned.

She kept her back towards him, her fingers still on the lamp. "I—it was you, wasn't it?" she asked. "The one who helped me out of the sewers a few days ago?"

"Am I that distinguishable?"

"I—I recognized your voice."

The terrapin could not resist the urge to grin. "That's flattering. Thanks. I was just trying to help." He chuckled. "It seemed to work."

Nia paused then said softly, "It did. Both times."

"Well, mission accomplished! Right?"

Nia twisted to meet Mikey's warm gaze. Her face was impassive at best, but she gave a strained smile. "Yes, thank you."

"Yeah, you're welcome. Uh," the mutant paused, his excitement dimming into unease, "I've been wondering…what were you doing in the sewers anyway? When we first met. Did it—did it have something to do with what's happening now?"

Instantly, Nia's smile died. "I'm really tired, Mister Michelangelo," she said hurriedly, turning away. By the time Mikey blinked in confusion she had retreated to her cot, her gaze set on the small area rug beneath her feet. "Please, let me rest."

"Right," Mikey muttered with a sigh. "Sorry if that's too soon to bring up. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but…please know you can lean on me for any kind of help. I can be a pretty great listener when I want to be. If you ever do want to tell me, I'll be eager to listen…Night." The mutant headed for the hallway then, only glancing over his shoulder once before walking down the brick hallway.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Raise your hand if you think Mikey is the sweetest, most adorable mutant turtle ever! *raises hand*


	9. High Time

**Author's Note:** I'm back from my Salem vacation, guys! Yes, I did have fun. I spent it with two very lovely people. :) Now, here's chapter nine at last! In it, Mikey tries befriending Nia some more and Raph has a sour day. Hope you enjoy!  
**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you noticed belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

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**Chapter 09 - ****High Time**

Could this day possibly grow any more annoying?

Raphael did not believe it could.

First, he had awoken to a poorly-placed box of steel chains falling onto his head; courtesy of his wonderful little brother, who thought it was a good idea, apparently, to stash their extra weapons in every crevice of the hothead's room. After tripping over a fallen yari and nearly smashing his foot with the weighted end of a kusarigama that hung over his door, he had tracked down the prankster for payback. Fearless stopped him before he could go any further than a headlock, though, which left him with no satisfaction and a terrible migraine.

Second, the day's training session ended prematurely, only a few hours in, and while training alone was always an option, he had recently been reminded how much more exciting it was to have a sparring partner. Unfortunately for him, Donatello busied himself with work and research, so he could be of no assistance. Leonardo thought it best he spent more time meditating, which currently occupied his time. That left Michelangelo as a possible candidate, only the youngest Hamato preferred to spend time with the new human invading their home.

Third, Splinter had been watching the hothead's back like a cop on stakeout ever since Nia arrived, so he could not go topside for an investigation without expecting some form of trouble.

Then, to top it all off, nothing interesting was on television.

'_I can't stand t'is shit_,' Raph thought with an outward scowl while reclining on the living room couch. '_We should be doin' more t'an just sittin' at home waitin' for Don to find some kind of lead. We should be topside. We should be investigatin'. I'm sick of bein' down here and t'at Anders woman…_' His frown deepened. '_T'at chick hasn't proven to be a lick of help…_'

"So, why don't you tell me some things about yourself?"

Raphael had to repress a groan at Michelangelo's chipper voice. The red-banded terrapin spared a brief glance towards the right, at the area where Mikey sat cross-legged on the Oriental rug before a sun-bleached loveseat. On its lone cushion a human curled up—a notoriously quiet one with a pale face that always seemed to be twisted in shallow pain. She was dressed in a dark hoodie with matching sweatpants and her long hair glistened with water from a fresh shower.

'_She must have finally caved into Mikey's suggestion,_' thought Raph while eyeing the cringe Nia sent his brother. '_Then again, it ain't like he mentioned it every hour for the past two days or anyt'in'._' Snorting, the sai master drew half his attention back to the mindless ads of television, but kept the remaining half on the conversation yet to be unfolded.

"Come on," Michelangelo goaded. "You finally came out of hiding after two days. The shower must have eased some stress and I'm sure talking will make you forget all about your claustrophobia!"

Raphael did not have to face Nia to know her grimaced intensified.

"You aren't going to throw up again, are you? Do you need more Chamomile?"

'_Damn, Knucklehead. If ya really gunna distract her, dun't remind her._'

"N—no, I'm ok," Nia managed to choke out. However, her tone did not sound very convincing.

"Alright, good," Mikey replied, probably smiling again. "So tell me, how old are you?"

"Um…I—uh…"

"It's not a hard question." Michelangelo obviously found pleasure in her awkward response. "For instance, I'm twenty-three."

"I'm…twenty."

"Do you work?"

Silence.

"No? Then do you go to school? College?"

"N—not yet…"

"Oh. Well then. Did you…did you just spend a lot of your time with your family?"

A small gasp indicated Nia's hesitance. Amber eyes flickered to the cringing woman for a simple second before returning forward.

"Ma—Mama tended to work…long hours," she said softly. "Daddy would work during the day…so I would spend a lot of time with them at night…"

"I—I'm sorry." Mikey's voice shifted from eager to gentle. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

"It's OK…" Raphael could barely hear the human's reply.

"Alright. New topic…What do you do with your time? I mean, normally. Every day. What's it like?"

An expected pause followed, but it had not been as long as the ones Raph usually received. "I…I just do…art."

"What kind of art?"

"P—painting. Aside from graphite, I love acrylic. A—and," she drew in a light breath, "3-D elements. Dimensions. Volume. Contrast. Layering. Detail. Shadow-box."

"You're starting to ramble," Mikey noted with a laugh.

"S—sorry," Nia replied timidly.

"So you like built up material." There was genuine intrigue in the orange-banded ninja's voice. "I like doing illustrations. Mainly with ink. I love ink."

"You do art too?" Surprise rose Nia's tone just a fraction.

"Yup! It's been an interest of mine ever since I was a mere turtle tot."

"Turtle…tot?"

Mikey gave a light-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, since I was a baby."

"You mean you were…" The woman trailed off with what Raphael assumed to be misguided respect.

'_Like yer gunna offend us by askin' if we were ever small. Che._'

"That's right! None of us have you told you our full story yet, have we? We kind of overlooked it, I think. Sorry! Would you like to hear?"

Nia must have nodded because Mikey continued. Of course he explained their history in an elaborately drawn-out manner that had Raph rolling his eyes. Honestly. Their story could be told in one sentence: they were once four regular, baby turtles that belonged to a little boy, but after being dropped into some T.C.R.I. ooze in a sewer, they were mutated. Bam, done. Was it really so hard to cut to the point of things? Was it really so hard to get direct answers? It must be since everyone else around Raph seemed to think that cushy words and roundabout methods were the best roads to take. The hothead snorted once Michelangelo finally concluded his tale, and Nia remained wordless for several moments.

"So you…age like…humans?" she asked in almost a whisper.

"We do a lot of things like humans," Mikey replied. "We think like humans. We eat like humans. We talk like humans. We dream like humans. The only thing obviously inhuman about us would have to be…well, you can tell." He gave an easy laugh, which Raph knew had been done in slight disappointment. "So? Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

'_Ugh, he's seriously actin' like t'is is supposed to be normal, ain't he?_'

"Anything at all? Questions going once. Going twice. So—"

'_T'at's it!_'

"Why dun't ya two actually talk about somet'in' _useful_, huh?" Raphael butted in. He sent the duo a mild glare, though Nia avoided his eyes by starring at her bare feet. "Yer artists, right? Why not make a sketch of the man who tried to kidnap Anders before, and take t'at to Don for further investigation? He still hasn't found the scientist, and until he does, we're stuck _here_, same as we were before, only wit' the addition of _her_!" Nia countered Raph's pointed finger with disturbingly impassive stare, leaving Michelangelo to speak in her place.

"Dude, just because we aren't doing things your way doesn't mean you can dump your frustration on the new girl!" Mikey snapped. "I've already given Don a sketch that April and I helped make. There's nothing left to do, so why not just relax?"

Raphael rolled his eyes as he stood up. He tossed the remote into the couch harder than needed, but at least it did not sail at that knucklehead's skull, which seemed all the more tempting. A scoff later he was on his way to the dojo. Suddenly, he did not mind so much that he lacked a sparring partner. Behind him Mikey said something along the lines of 'Don't mind Raphie Boy; he's a hothead.'

'_Shell-for-brains, ya were just as upset as me about stayin' down here before, but wit' new blood in the Lair ya seem to have forgotten about our imprisonment. Sometimes I envy yer easily distracted nature, bro…_'

Shaking his head free of any further thoughts, Raphael stormed into the dojo like a hungry predator ready for action. His stern gaze immediately found its intended target, but to his surprise someone else resided in the space as well.

"Leo?"

Leonardo concluded his remaining kata without fault, without surprise. He released a deep, steady breathe and a pair of umber eyes opened to grace Raphael's standing figure a few feet away. Raph gave no thought to marching forward, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Trainin' wit'out us, I see," he remarked gruffly.

Leonardo gave a strained smiled. "I'm simply keeping my body ready. You all needed a break."

"But not ya? What makes ya so special?" Raphael found his way to a heavy punching bag at the room's west end. He allowed his callused fingertips to brush over the course fabric keeping the sand inside for just a moment before he drew a fist back then forward into a powerful punch. Twap! The dense bag swung dangerously, and if Raphael had not rolled to the side it would have knocked the wind clean out of his lungs. He repeated the move a few times until the bag danced in circles from the ceiling, until Leonardo spoke up.

"Do you want to spar?"

Raphael flipped backwards. He landed without a sound on the tatami mats and flashed a wild smirk that lit up his amber eyes.

"What took ya so long to ask, Fearless?"

And just like that, the mutants were at a stand-off.

Raphael held Leonardo's attention, unblinking, unyielding. The blue-banded mutant waited patiently in his stance. Too patiently. Raphael growled softly at those calm umber eyes and that carefully controlled expression which did not dare betray its master. How Leo could stand monitoring his actions was beyond Raph's comprehension. It seemed tedious. And annoying.

Leonardo must have caught the flash of decisiveness within Raphael's gaze because the moment he lunged forward, Leo dodged by tucking his form into a roll towards the left. Raph was quick to counter with a round-house kick at the leader's recovering form, but Leo, kneeled down, caught his ankle in an iron grip, knocking him unbalanced enough for a strike. Even leaning back, Raphael deterred the fist hurling to his side with an open-palm, which presented the chance for a punch to Leo's cheek when the former's momentum continued forward. Leonardo anticipated the move and used the force behind his inertia to sling himself around Raph, where he performed a roundhouse kick of his own.

Raphael smirked. His limbs moved on their own accord once he regained balance. The faint sound of slicing air whipped above his head as the ninja ducked low. He twisted behind him to seize Leo's ankle this time. Once he had a firm grip, he jerked upwards, landing the opposing turtle square on his carapace with a loud 'thunk', and chuckled.

"Ya loosin' yer touch, Fearless," Raph said in a much lighter mood than before. "Time off has made ya soft."

Leonardo snorted lightly, already back on his feet, crouching. A faint trace of annoyance illuminated his eyes, and Raphael grinned smugly in return. Controlled or not, the leader hated loosing just as much as he did.

"So, are ya really content loungin' about here?" Raph inquired while avoiding another kick, this one a tad harder to miss.

"What do you mean?" replied Leo. He dropped low to sweep Raph's legs, but Raph flipped backwards as he did so.

"Ya know what I _mean_, Fearless!" Raph growled and slipped his hands under one of his brother's arm pits so he could toss him over his shoulder.

Leonardo regained his ground as quick as a falling cat. "There isn't much more we can do, Raph," Leo said, vaulting over his brother to give the red-banded mutant a sudden snap-kick to the back.

Raph stumbled forward then fell onto his hands and knees when another strike impacted the same spot, unrelenting and stronger than the first. His muscles twitched, aching to rise from the padded floor, but Leo had reinforced his initial blow before the mutant could take a breath. Raphael found himself lying on his plastron in seconds.

"I win this time." The haughty satisfaction evident in Leo's tone stung Raph's esteem as well as swelled his brotherly pride.

"Alright, fine," Raphael sneered. His voice was partially muffled by the ground half his face melded with. "Whatever. Now get the hell off my shell." Unwanted weight on his carapace vanished in an instant, allowing Raph to flip over. He remained still though, until a hoarse sigh escaped his throat. His eyes landed on Leo, who sat cross-legged in his own thoughts. "When are we gunna get back out t'ere, Fearless?"

Leonardo glanced up from the mats to meet Raphael's gaze. The blank expression on his face did little to hide his true intents. Raph could practically feel the gears moving like clockwork in the leader's head.

"I feel we need more training as a team," he finally admitted. "We're still not back to the unity we once were before…"

"Ya t'ink sparrin' for a few days will fix everyt'in'? We still remember how to fight as a team, Leo. We've been doin' it for eight years, so it's not somet'in' t'at'll leave us so easily in a month." Sitting up, Raphael turned towards his brother with a faint scowl gracing his face. "Patrollin' is our best bet to get back in shape."

"You're biased."

"But ya know it's the truth." Leo sighed. "Come on, Fearless. It's high time we get back out t'ere and ya know it. Besides," Raph scoffed yet smirked in anticipation, "maybe we'll find some clues around, ones of the E.P.F. kind."

"We aren't going to look for trouble," Leonardo snapped. He paused, catching himself. More gears turned, and their decision manifested as a glint in the leader's eyes. "We'll go tomorrow. A few hours. Mainly surveillance."

"Finally!"

"But," Leo's interjection had Raph's heart sinking just an inch, "We ask Donny and Mikey if they feel up for it first."

"Sure, sure, Fearless. T'ey'll wanna go," Raphael replied with absolute confidence. He flipped to his feet, and held out a hand for his brother, who took it with caution. Admittedly, Raph did contemplate throwing him over the shoulder again; however, a growling stomach reminded him he would rather eat then start another match. This time. "Ya want to see if Knucklehead has started makin' an't'ing for dinner?"

Leonardo gave a short nod, and together they headed for the kitchen. A pungent aroma overtook Raphael's senses the moment he took two strides from the dojo. It was a rather unpleasant smell he recognized as burnt food, but he could not figure out how it tasted sweet at the back of his throat. A light cloud of smoke seeped from the kitchen into the living room. If they had fire alarms they would have long since blared by now. Raph shared with Leo a look of mild-concern, and when they ventured closer to the kitchen, a dashing figure tore between them, retreating behind a brick bend towards the right.

"Nia, wait!" Michelangelo emerged, dish towel in hand. His plea went unheeded.

"Mikey, what's goin' on?" inquired Raphael. He sidestepped his brother to face the scene ahead.

'_What the hell…?_'

Ingredients for baking lined what little counter space was available in the Lair kitchen like a small army, an army that had gone to war and lost. Flour flowed from the microwave, down the cabinet, and to the floor like a veil of white. Somehow, stray batter found its way just beyond kitchen boundaries. The styrofoam carton of eggs leaned against the sink's wall, its contents cracked and bleeding down the drain. Two toppled bottles had rolled to a stop by a plastic bowl near the stove, one of vanilla extract and the other…soy sauce? Raphael did not dare study the opened spices and containers littering the place as if someone had not been able to decide what would better suit their recipe.

"What happened in here?" Leonardo breathed, stepping forward. A soft 'crunch' below had the turtle lifting his foot in disgust. Half an eggshell, slimy with its yolk, now lay fat on the concrete floor. Leo's expression would have had Raph rolling with laughter if he had not taken note of Mikey's defeated frown first.

'_Damn, I hate seein' him like t'at._'

"I was…trying to make her feel better," Michelangelo replied like a wounded child. "She's been stressed, so I thought we could do something fun to pass the time."

"And you came up with baking?" Leo questioned when he found a safe path to his brother's side.

"Even if we were cooking from scratch, it seemed simple enough…"

"Obviously not for her," Raph commented. "What were ya tryin' to make, anyway?"

"Cookies," answered Mikey solemnly. "I thought it would be easy, but it seems…"

"Not." Amber eyes landed on a single cookie sheet atop the microwave. In it, four rows of charred circles could have been ninja themselves by the way they almost blended into the dark metal.

'_Well, now I know the cause of the smoke._'

"Well, she did get better." Mikey actually sounded offended. "I think she grew embarrassed, though, and that's why she ran out."

'_Why dun't t'at surprise me?_' Raphael brought his attention back to Michelangelo, but had to turn away just as soon because the lost confusion in the youngest's eyes tightened his chest in a budding fury. '_Stupid Mikey, why are ya lettin' her get to ya like t'is? If she's embarrassed, it ain't yer fault._'

Now growling, the red-banded mutant drew neigh to the small counter space beside the sink. He barely smirked at the round sweets creating an even grid across two additional cookie sheets, these ones much more pleasant to the eyes. Their perfect gold-brown coloring and appealing aroma only aided in the temptation, so Raphael reached over to pluck one from the right.

"Wait, Raph, don't!" Mikey's warning came too late.

Raphael chewed and swallowed the entire treat before its true flavor sank in. Immediately, his mouth dried up like a dessert, burning just as hot as one's sands. Within a second he found himself gagging, coughing, and very much disgusted. His stomach churned as he scrambled for the haven of a cup.

"I'm sorry, Raph," Mikey said behind him. "That was from an earlier batch of hers." To his relief, Raphael discovered a fractured plastic cup that had been sealed again with duck tape. He transported that to the sink.

"You mean the _burnt_ cookies are her best batch?" Leonardo's voice resonated more with a guilty amusement than surprise.

'_Do ya not see me sufferin' over here, Fearless?_' Raph growled in his mind. '_Any burnt food right now would be a grade-A delicacy!_' Time passed painstakingly slow as tap water filled his cup, mocking his suffering, and once it reached the rim, he downed the liquid without thought to turning off the faucet.

"Yes." Mikey laughed, though it was half-hearted. "The left batch is mine, by the way. That's probably what Raph smelled."

"T'anks for the warnin', Shell-for-brains," sneered Raph. He glared at his youngest brother, waiting impatiently for his glass to refill.

"Hey, that's what you get for being greedy." Mikey had the audacity to smirk, though it soon faltered. "I don't get why she has to shy away from things so easily. There's nothing wrong with being a bad cook. I mean, Leo only makes ramen, yet we still respect him."

"Thanks, Mikey," Leo responded as bland as his expression.

"What…happened in here?" In unison, the trio twisted to greet the last Hamato siblings, who stood beside their dining room table, looking less-than-pleased at the mayhem.

"Hey, Donny."

"Mikey was making cookies with Anders-san."

"Tryin' to, ya mean."

Donatello gave them each a calculating stare, almost cold, which had Raphael frowning in unease. Such a thing was not natural, not for the good-natured brother. The only times he dished out such contempt is when those on the receiving end honestly, whole-heartedly, and definitely deserved it. His brothers had rarely ever been on that end, so it gave rise to questions.

'_He must be tired and frustrated from work,_' Raph concluded within his mind. The mutant continued to devour his third glass of water. '_He ain't standin' strong and t'ose bags under his eyes say he hasn't slept in a good day or two…Did he look like t'at t'is mornin'?_'

"I'm just here for some coffee," Don said bluntly. The purple-banded ninja shook his head then continued forward, as if they were nothing more than children, but Leonardo blocked his path before he could reach the coffee maker.

"Don."

'_I know t'at look. Get ready for a lecture, Donny._'

"When did you go to bed last night?"

"What are you doing, Leo?" Donatello snapped. "I just want coffee." Again, he attempted to pass and again, Leo blocked him.

"What time?" Leo pressed in that obnoxiously stern tone of his.

"You didn't bother me with these questions this morning," Don remarked. He ceased evading the eldest, and crossed his arms.

"You didn't look this fatigued this morning."

"I'm _fine_. If you just let me get some coffee, I can go back to work."

'_I wonder if he even knows he's swayin' slightly as he says t'at._'

It did not take long for the realization to set in with Leo. "You didn't go to bed last night, did you?" Umber eyes narrowed.

"Leo…" Donatello groaned, rocking a bit more in his aggravation. "There's so much to search through. That guy could be anybody. It would be much easier if we had a name to go by rather than a face. All I can do right now if shift through a plethora of state files from companies and colleges one-by-one, but I don't think you quite grasp how much _effort_ that takes." Don's voice had gradually lowered darkly and he had not bothered to temper it, even under Leo's displeased gaze.

'_He must really be exhausted…_'

"Donny…"

"Who's to say we're even looking for a true scientist?" Don went on as if Leo had never spoken. "Are we supposed to take his word for it? What if he doesn't actually live in New York? What if he lives in another state? Another country? Do you know how many people live on Earth, Leo? April and I are only two individuals. What we're attempting to do is catch a damn phantom!"

"Don."

"And then there's Bishop. Who knows what the hell he's up to!"

"_Donatello_!"

"_What_?"

"You're tired." Despite the simplicity of Leo's statement, it held weight.

Donatello's body betrayed him before he could argue any further. Yawning, the genius leaned too far back, tipping. Leonardo steadied him with gentle support then led him to a chair at the dining room table. His protests were weak, pointless. He slumped into the seat without a fight. Mikey snatched two cookies from his batch to offer, and sat in an opposing spot.

'_Yeah, I dun't t'ink he ate any lunch…Not only t'at, but he's been livin' off coffee for weeks._'

"Donny, you can't sacrifice your health over this," Leo said. He took a seat as well, the one beside Don. "We need you at your best."

"I know, Leo…I'm sorry. It's just frustrating…I want to give her answers as soon as possible." If he had not been talking, Raph would have assumed his brother was asleep.

Leo gave an understanding nod, but concern still lingered in his eyes and frown. "We will get her answers, Don, regardless of time. For now, you should go to bed. We all should get good rest because tomorrow…we're going on patrol and keeping our eyes out for that scientist."

"You mean it, Leo?" Michelangelo perked up like a puppy being offered a treat.

'_Now t'at's the look I like to see._'

"Yes, we are. That is, if you and Donny think we should."

"You're asking for…what?" inquired Mikey, an eye ridge raised in confusion. "Our approval to go back topside?"

"No." Don opened his heavy eyes to flash the youngest a gentle smile. "He's asking us…if we're ready to move on together. Isn't that right, Leo?"

Again, Leo nodded.

"Well, you can count me in!" What less could be expected from the restless Michelangelo?

"Me too, Leo." Donny's response came sluggish, soft with sleeplessness, but absolute. Expectably, Leo turned to Raph, though he had already received an opinion.

"I told ya," the hothead said, "it's high time we got back out t'ere."

"Then it's settled. We leave tomorrow night."

Raphael smirked as he watched Leonardo practically drag the purple-banded ninja from his seat to his room upstairs for much needed rest. It was amusing when the leader fretted over the other two brothers as if they were children again, but not when it came to him.

'_Finally, we can get back to what we're good at,_' thought Raph as he watched Mikey clean the kitchen. '_And we won't slip again. I'll make sure of it…_'

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**Author's Note:** So, by 'we're going back to work' all those chapters ago, Leo really meant 'we'll get back to training'. XD Seems Raph convinced him of what he already knew, but how will patrolling again REALLY go? Find out next chapter!


	10. Taking Sides

**Author's Note**: And chapter ten is here. Huzzah! Exspect some family drama. XD And a first glimpse into Nia's mind. O_O  
**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks

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**Chapter 10 - ****Taking Sides**

Within the confines of her room, Nia Anders gazed at the picture hanging by the foot of her cot. It was not particularly amazing, just a cast-out farm landscape painted with watercolor. The thin wooden frame that enclosed it lacked one side and trash stains surrounded the paper's edges in an unintentional border. Errors in minor—yet important—technical skills signified it had not been drawn by an accomplished hand.

Even so, Nia found herself drawn to the pure freedom of the piece, as one is to the picture a child has crafted. It was unbridled, fearless, and vibrant; so, though the artist may not have possessed discipline in drafting (or handling paint), they proved with their technique they were beginning their artistic journey and unafraid at pouring their souls into the process.

'_So brave,_' Nia thought. She tucked her knees under her chin, sighing. '_I envy them. I don't remember any time in my life where I have ever been brave, even in my art…_'

The thought somehow tugged at the woman's heart, at her esteem. How odd; she had never been ashamed at lacking bravery before. Why the sudden change?

'_Perhaps it's because I'm alone now. Daddy had always been the one to be brave for me…Oh, what's going to happen to me? Obviously, I can't stay here forever. I'm going to have to leave when it's safe, go back, and…live alone._'

Now that notion caused Nia's body to shudder. She had never been alone for as long as she could remember. Her parents had always been in her life—helping, loving, and wise in their guidance. They were her support, her strength, and she found within the past week that being without them was like being without stable ground.

'_I miss you guys so much, Mama, Daddy,_' Nia thought with stinging eyes. '_I don't know what to do without you…being down here…is building up an unbearable amount of anxiety inside me. I know I should leave soon, with my migraines growing worse, but I'm also too scared to ask…_'

Not only that, but where would she go? To the police? It seemed liked a reasonable conclusion; however, Michelangelo had made it a point to remind Nia that any topside contact would be dangerous. He insisted she bare with them until the end, and she did not fight his determination; that felt impossible.

'_Oh, Mister Michelangelo…You try so hard to make me comfortable and I don't know why. I'm only intruding on your family…_'

Not that the human was unthankful for the offered help; she just could not quite fathom opening her home to a stranger if she were in their position. Did they not feel vulnerable? Where was their self-preservation?

'_But I guess they are much more courageous than I am, to conquer that. And Miss April had been the one to ask for their help. I get the feeling they wouldn't have taken me in so easily otherwise..._'

Indeed, they would not have, if Leonardo's and Raphael's gazes were any indication. Whenever the female ventured from her room she could feel at least one pair of criticizing eyes following her. While she understood their concern, their intimidating presence did not make her feel welcomed or comfortable enough to confine in anyone. They simply did not trust her.

'_I haven't a clue how to ensure them I know nothing,'_ thought Nia with a sigh. '_Haven't I made myself clear enough? Even Miss April thinks I'm may be hiding something, but I really don't know any one named Agent Bishop. And the scientist? Daddy had known many scientists in his life. Why does that mean I have to as well? I hate scientists…and it isn't a crime to not want to talk about them…_'

Groaning, Nia swung her legs over the edge of her cot, carefully closing the sketchbook beside her and placing it on the end table. A dull pulse in her head had her cringing, so she resolved to see what remedies could be found in the kitchen. She strolled down the hall into the living room then finally to her destination, where she promptly began shifting through cabinets.

'_I know I saw some tea yesterday when I was...ugh, I should have never let Mister Michelangelo talk me into even trying. It turned into a disaster, just like I had said it would…and…I didn't even have the guts to come back out and help clean…it was too embarrassing. Was he disappointed with me…? Maybe I should apologize or something…Uh, where is that stupid tea?_'

"May I be of any assistance, Anders-san?"

Nia twisted at a gentle yet penetrating voice from behind. Splinter stood with his four foot figure upright in a familiar sense of pride that reminded the woman of her father.

"San?" she questioned, automatic.

Splinter rounded the island counter between them, the faintest trace of a smile crinkling his dark eyes. "Forgive the habit, Miss Anders," he said. "It comes naturally."

"Wh—what does it mean?" She eyed the old rat as he purposely moved about the space.

"It is a Japanese honorific," he answered. "Would you like some tea?" Nia nodded hesitantly and within seconds the drink she had been searching for had been retrieved. "It is akin to the English form for Mister, Miss, or Misses," the rat went on to say, putting water to boil on the stove. "What kind of tea do you like?"

"I…uh…" She had to look away from his eyes; they were far more piercing than even his eldest son's eyes. "Do you have any more…Chamomile?"

"Yes," he replied simply.

In silence, the two finished brewing their tea. Nia intended to retreat to her sketchbook in her room; however, Splinter's voice stopped her before she took so much as a stride forward.

"Miss Anders, have you found peace yet?"

The question enraptured the human like an irresistible force. It held her against her will, and when she faced the mutant again, she found herself lost in his intense gaze rather than avoiding it. She could not understand what he meant. Peace? Splinter smiled knowingly. What had he concluded?

"Come, Miss Anders," he spoke like leading a child, "let me show you how to meditate."

* * *

If a plane existed above exhilarating, Michelangelo had surpassed it with flying colors. His body felt lighter than air gliding across rooftops, as if his new-found freedom were concentrated helium that propelled him from everything physical. How he had missed the thrilling leap from one building to another, the heart-stopping adrenaline of mapping a safe path in his mind, just confident he will make it across the urban jungle safely.

His brothers must have felt it too. Raphael obviously wanted to test the limits of his muscles, choosing a harder path then the rest, while Donatello sought for effectiveness. There was even a slight jump to Leonardo's step, one of contained excitement.

"Michelangelo, you're running too far ahead."

The orange-banded turtle grinned at his eldest brother following him. Even his scolding sounded sweet.

"You're just too slow," Mikey called back.

"I told ya time off made ya soft, Fearless." Raphael flipped past Leonardo, to taunt him.

The leader snorted. "This is our first night back out in a while," he said blandly. "Though we're mainly here for surveillance, we're also in the process of rebuilding our teamwork. That means we can't just run around to our heart's content." Landing without so much as a 'tap' on the next flat rooftop, Leo stopped, which had practically been a command for the others to follow suit. Michelangelo and Raphael backtracked to meet Donatello at Leonardo's side. "You are taking this seriously, aren't you?" Leo asked the trio.

"Of course we are, Fearless," Raph replied with a scoff. "I'm just ready to move and keep on movin' 'til we find some action." His hand twitched against the hilt of his sai in a long-nurtured habit.

Leo shook his head, a deep scowl on his face only the hothead seemed capable of provoking. "I told you yesterday, Raph. We aren't going to look for trouble. This is an exercise to ease us back into the habit of functioning as a team. And if we spot that scientist, good."

"Could ya be any duller, Fearless?"

"What kind of exercise did you have in mind, Leo?" Donatello intervened for everyone's sake.

Their leader began explaining some ideas and expectations. To say Mikey found them interesting, though, would be a lie. Leo's voice grew into nothing more than white noise as the youngest's attention drifted to the scenery around him. He drew in a deep breath of lingering scents from restaurants two streets over and smiled at the cool air that occasionally swept across his body. His baby blues rolled towards the orange-tainted sky above, which held a few scattered clouds that obscured a bright, full moon.

'_It's too bad we can't see the stars out here,_' thought Mikey. '_That's the only thing I miss about staying at the farmhouse…That and being able to hang out during the day. Oh well._'

The city life suited him best, anyway. Peace may be nice, but being occupied was much more fun. And so, he easily let the thought slip away in favor of another, more poignant one.

"Hey, guys," he called. However, the three brothers were lost in their conversation. "Guys!"

"Michelangelo…were you even listening to me?" inquired Leo.

"We're on Hudson Street." Mikey's words escaped his lips softly, and Raph raised an eye ridge.

"Yeah. What about it, Shell-for-brains?"

The orange-banded mutant ignored him. Instead, his pleading eyes settled on Leonardo, who hardened at their question.

"No, Mikey," said Leo with care.

"It's just down the road."

"No."

"But—"

"No." Leo's voice, as well as his face, began to strain.

Michelangelo kept eye contact and frowned. "Visiting isn't harping, Leo. It's showing respect."

"There's a fine line between the two in this case, and you often cross it. We aren't going, Mikey."

That tone. That glare. After twenty-three years, Mikey knew better than to hope his brother would budge on the matter.

"Fine," he grumbled, "have it your way." While he may have grown past the stage of throwing tantrums, Michelangelo did not fight the urge to turn his head aside and fold his arms in obvious displeasure. He could barely detect the faint padding of Leonardo's footsteps as he approached; however, he did not need to hear them to know they were taken with tenderness, not irritation.

"Mikey…" Leonardo placed a gentle hand on his brother's tense shoulder. "We already said we're moving on together, so let's prove it. Right now. You've already broken your own cycle. Last Friday you spent with Anders-san. Wouldn't you say that's a good change?"

Michelangelo sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just…It's hard. I feel like I'm disregarding...you know."

Leonardo gave a light, hollow laugh. "Believe me, I know. But we aren't. Not at all. We're moving forward with a better attitude than that, aren't we?" It took little urging for Michelangelo to face his sibling. Leo's kind smile eased the tight knot in Mikey's stomach, and the youngest managed a lopsided grin.

"We are," he said. "And that's what's going to help us with Nia, huh?"

"Ha!" A sarcastic laugh had Michelangelo facing Raphael, whose frowning figure leaned against the iron base of a water tower that loomed over the building they were stationed on.

"What's your problem?" asked the orange-banded ninja.

"Problem?" the hothead countered. "I'm just laughin' 'cause yer funny."

"And just what is so funny, huh?" Mikey replied flatly.

"Oh, I dun't know," said Raph in dark sarcasm. "How about the fact t'at ya t'ink we can help someone who dun't even wanna help herself?"

"Oh, forgive me, master of astuteness," the youngest Hamato drawled while rolling his eyes. "I forgot you obviously know so much about Nia in the whole hour you've spent with her these past three days."

The red-banded ninja scoffed. "I dun't need to sit down wit' Anders to know t'at much, Mikey!"

"Seriously, dude?" cried Michelangelo, glaring. "You haven't even given her a chance!"

"Yeah, I have. And every time it always ends the same, wit' her shuttin' down."

"Oh, jeeze, I wonder why." Raphael's face darkened into a rather unimpressed expression that Mikey mirrored. "Do you _always_ have to think the worst of people?"

"I just call t'ings as I see t'em."

"Then you need glasses!"

"Well Klunk hasn't taken a likin' to her eit'er. What does t'at say?"

"Guys, that's enough." Leonardo stepped forward and held an open palm towards each brother like a wall. But though he had spoken, neither sibling budged their stare.

"What's gotten into you recently?" Michelangelo finally questioned after a silent moment. "You've been treating Nia like a—a parasite. I don't remember you being this hostile towards April."

"April was a different case."

"How so? We helped her too."

"Dammit, Mikey." Raphael grunted, rotating his shoulder as if doing so would hold back any violent urges. "Helpin' ain't the problem!"

Mikey glared. "Then what is? I really don't understand why she bothers you so much! Don't tell me this has something to do with your nightmares."

As quick as a flash of lightning, Raphael grew quiet and still. Expectedly, the hothead drew his fierce gaze to the side, away from his brother.

"Ya know what?" he questioned. "I dun't have to explain myself to ya."

"What? _You're_ the one who brought this all up!"

"Mikey, enough." Michelangelo had not realized how close Leonardo was to him until the Jonin caught the youngest's right bicep in a tight warning grip. He did not quite understand why umber eyes regarded him with disproval, and once the grip had been dropped, the nunchuck master back stepped towards the building ledge, his wounded stare bouncing between Leonardo and Raphael.

"I—I don't get either of you," he spat. "Why am I the bad guy for wanting to be on Nia's side? What's so wrong with that?"

"It blinds you," Leo immediately replied. "I understand why you so desperately want to assume…Look, Raph is dealing with things the only way he knows how. You know that. Before you blow up"—he pointed a finger at Michelangelo, who had just taken a deep breath—"I'm not saying that Anders-san doesn't deserve respect. I'm trying my hardest myself."

"Right." Mikey's words oozed with sarcasm. "So your hardest includes eyeing her like a store clerk eyes a kleptomaniac? No wonder she doesn't come out of her room."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is! Both you and Raph are guilty of it."

"We're just being cautious since we don't really know her."

"That's more than just being cautious, Leo, that's flat out _paranoia_!"

Damn. Mikey had done it; he had spoken a forbidden word. Instantly, Leonardo's face twisted into a scowl. His quick steps echoed rage as he neared his brother, yet the youngest stood firm.

"Well, forgive us, Michelangelo," he hissed. "Unlike _you_, I can't fully trust someone on something as silly as a gut feeling."

Michelangelo hated how much his eyes stung right then, absolutely hated it. It was a pure miracle that tears did not roll down his cheeks, and he spared a moment to gather his hurt and annoyance so his voice would not crack when he spoke again. By that point, his eldest brother's anger had already died into shame.

"If I recall correctly, my silly gut feeling saved Nia once," Mikey said, soft. "You seem unable to understand that because you have grown too paranoid for your own good, even if you don't want to admit it..." After one final glare, Michelangelo spun on a heel to face the paved street below. He heard Leo sigh from behind, yet still refused to turn back, even when the latter spoke.

"Mikey, I'm sorry."

"Forget it."

"I didn't mean—"

"I said _forget it_!"

"But maybe he shouldn't." Donatello must have spoken before he could help himself because he paused before continuing in a less assertive tone, "I—I know I haven't been as open-armed about this situation as Mikey. However, I have to agree with him on his point, Leo. You and Raph have been a little…uh…"

"A little _what_, Donny?" Leonardo inquired. "Do you think I'm being paranoid _too_?"

"Relax, alright? I was going to say intimidating or misrepresenting. You have to admit, you and Raph haven't been the most embracing of hosts."

"Oh, so now we're bein' deemed uncooperative because we dun't sit around and bake cookies wit' her?"

Michelangelo spun wildly at Raphael's question, his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched. "Don't patronize me about that!" he exclaimed.

"Was I talkin' to ya?"

"I'm not stupid!"

"Ya sure?"

"There's nothing wrong with getting to know her, you know?"

The hothead snorted. "I dun't t'ink she feels t'at way."

"Ugh! Why do you have to be so damn imposs—"

The crisp 'whoosh' of a bo staff slicing the air between Raph and Mikey cut off any further comments. It forced a jolt of surprise through the youngest's limbs, and drew the interest of Leonardo. Only with a mighty sigh and a shake of the head did its master reposition the weapon back on his carapace.

"I never meant to start another argument," said Don, grim. "But this just proves another point. We can't keep fighting each other. Yes, all of us have a different opinion on the situation. Taking sides, however, is counterproductive; especially since we each have our own sides to take, apparently. I don't want us divided like that, do you?" Donatello gave each of his brothers a pointed stare, though Raphael ignored his gaze completely.

"You're right, Don," Leonardo replied. "I don't mean to pick any sides, or be a side, for that matter. It's just… this business with Bishop makes me uneasy."

"Don't use poor excuses like that to justify yourself, Leo…"

Wow. Had Donny really been the one to say that? Mikey had a hard time comprehending such a thing.

"Um…What?" Leo's question held a dangerous edge in spite of his flabbergasted look.

Strangely, the brainiac kept both an even expression and tone. "Well—aside from the fact that Bishop's involvement is still speculation—our enemies have nothing to do with our problem, this problem. You asked us yesterday if we were ready to move on together, but…I don't think you've fully prepared yourself for that yet. Not really."

Leonardo wanted to reply; everything, from his parted mouth to his clenched fists, said so. Yet he remained disturbingly quiet, umber eyes set, square, on an unflinching Donatello. A stare-down like this was rarer than a smart Purple Dragon and Michelangelo found himself torn at whether or not to disturb it.

He did not have to endure the torment for long, though, because something from the sky stole his choice. There had been no chance to cringe at the sickening 'twack' that suddenly meet Leonardo's skull, so Mikey simply stared in disbelief as the leader's body was driven into the concrete rooftop, face first.

"Is that a…sack of change?" Don questioned.

"Looks like it," replied Raph as Donny knelt down to remove the gray bag from the back of Leo's head.

"Dude, is he still conscious?"

"Of course I am," Leo hissed at Mikey. It took a moment, but the Jonin regained his posture, an annoyed scowl on his face as he rubbed the back of his head. "Where did that come from?"

"Above," Don answered simply.

The group wasted no time in scanning the dim-lit area for suspects. Raphael was quick to cry out 'there!' as he pointed towards a particularly high building on the rooftop's right side. Mikey's trained eyes barely caught a glimpse of three dark figures disappearing behind a wall of set bricks. One paused for the briefest of instances before following suit with the other two.

'_He's probably the one who dropped the change,_' Mikey thought, and no sooner did he sense an anxious smirk from Raphael did a flash of red dart past his peripheral vision.

"I got 'em!"

"Raph, wait!"

"Forget it! I've been waitin' long enough, Fearless!" Raph bellowed without hesitation. "I'm done wit' waitin'!" And so the hothead began his pursuit.

While both Leonardo and Donatello groaned at such impulsiveness, Michelangelo chuckled. He saw no reason to be disgruntled since they had gone topside to test their teamwork. What better opportunity could they get than tracking down some thieves? So, after flashing Leo a smile, he withdrew the nunchuck from his belt and sought to catch up with Raph. Within two minutes he found himself side by side with the red-banded ninja, who half-smirked at his baby brother's presence.

"Leo try to stop ya too?" he asked.

"Nope," Mikey replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Didn't give him a chance. They'll be along soon enough. Meanwhile, want to go say hi to our new friends?"

"Sounds like fun! Me first."

Mikey did not fight for the lead Raph seemed so determined to keep. Instead, he fell in stride behind his brother and veered only when the latter maneuvered his way before the cloak-clad trio not two yards ahead. One member (no taller than three and a half feet) must have anticipated what would come next because it leaped into the air before it could fall victim to Raphael's outstretched limbs. The remaining two, however, were not as perceptive.

They tripped. Pure force rolled their dark-clad forms ungracefully before they came to a grueling halt several feet behind Raph. A trail of pricey jewelry was left in their wake, courtesy of the burlap sacks that had been freed from surprised fingers. Mikey took care not to damage any of the fragile pieces when he leapt over his brother with the intent of immobilizing the downed thieves. Unfortunately, they were quicker to recover than he had expected.

Swoosh! Michelangelo dodged an uppercut just in time to receive a painful kick to the lower plastron. The mutant released a shocked grunt, yet had little time for recovery. In an instant, he captured the oncoming first of one thief, which twisted at his left side, and blocked the sidekick of the second thief with his right shin. He growled then hurled his free first at the face of one opponent—a rather tall figure with features hidden by a large hood. His tense fist connected with a substance harder than cartilage or bone; Mikey could tell this by the pain that shot through his arm like the sting of a giant needle. He barely had time to hiss let alone plan a counterattack before the second opponent swept his feet from beneath him.

'_What the hell is that dude's face made out of?_' Mikey screamed within his mind, gasping for air.

Sharp pain struck him again, this time on the side, and he was powerless to the frightening force that rolled his body sideways three full turns. Such strength left the mutant disoriented at best. He could barely rise from his concrete landing spot without vertigo forcing him back down, which it did several times.

'_Damn!_' thought Mikey. '_It's like he hit my head, not my side. Just who are these people? Is Raph having this much trouble?_'

He dared glance up through unfocused eyes. The scene before him cleared after a few blinks, and once it did Michelangelo's stomach sank. Raph had obvious difficulty in blocking the barrage of skilled attacks directed towards him. Some he could counter with his palms, but most found their target. Soon, Raph was floored as well. Normally, Mikey would jest over the fact that an opponent half his size could keep strong, stocky Raph on the defensive; however, he just could not bring himself to do it; the humor simply was not there.

'_Where the hell are Leo and Don? We could really use them right now…They couldn't have run into more of these guys…could they? Maybe we should have stayed together after all._'

Tap. Tap. Tap. Michelangelo winced at the approaching footsteps. They brought with them a dreadful feeling that prevented him from facing the tallest of his opponents. When the figure squatted, though, Mikey did manage a hard glare.

"You got something you want to say?" the ninja seethed through clenched teeth.

"Yes," the hooded figure replied, flat. He tilted his chin upwards so a few rays of moonlight were no longer blocked from his face. What Mikey saw took him by utter surprise. One of the man's eyes most definitely was not organic.

"Are you…?"

"If you wish to live, steer clear of us."

All that Mikey could remember next was blackness and an aching pain in his jaw.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well...That didn't go as well as they would have liked. XD Sorry, guys!


	11. Nightmares

**Author's Note: **So, first off, I would like to give a shout out to my wonderful reviewers. FoxXxXx, Mikeygurl5, o0CrimsonsDragon0o, it's nice to hear your thoughts. :) Windy and DuckiePray, thanks so much for your continued support. It means a lot. :3 Now, fair warning, the beginning may or may not be a bit disturbing to some readers. It's still in the PG-13 range, but...yeah. It's important, lol. Onward!**  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 11 - ****Nightmares**

_I__t crept into his mind slowly…_

_Looming…_

_Consuming…_

_Unrelenting…_

_The darkness._

_It surrounded his body in an icy shroud that left him breathless and sought only to contain him. But he would not be contained; he could not be. Not by something he and his brothers had spent years honing. It was supposed to be his ally, his advantage, his haven, yet here…it was far from such._

_Why? For how long had the dark been his enemy? For how long had it wanted him destroyed?_

_He could feel it in his bones; the darkness—this darkness—longed for his death. It was a rather unsettling emotion—dreadful in its certainty—and his racing mind could not pinpoint an answer. One deep tug at his chest, though, reminded him that his heart already knew why. _

_Perhaps that was his reason for running. To stop would be to succumb._

_Raphael rarely succumbed to anything in his life._

_So the mutant turtle continued to run, and run, and run until his body felt like lead and his lungs burned with a fire so intense it parched his throat. Only then did he drop to his knees, a tight fist pressed against his scarred plastron as he sought clean air that could not be found. He began suffocating within moments, panicking. His vision blurred in and out of focus and his body shook violently in protest. He could swear the darkness laughed at him._

'_Dammit,' he screamed within his mind. 'Dammit, all to hell!'_

_His six fingers curled in agony across his collar bone as he screwed his eyes shut._

'_Damn that night!'_

_His teeth ground together._

'_Damn those men!'_

_The seeping heat spread from his lungs to his limbs, tingling._

'_But most of all…damn me!'_

_Damn me. As if those words were a magic phrase, the air returned. Raphael jerked forward with his palms flat against the cool ground and sucked in long, greedy breathes, coughing after each inhale. He tried shaking the haze from his mind, but doing so only enhanced the lightheadedness. Thus, he remained still for who knows how long._

_When he finally regained the strength to stand again, Raphael growled, surveying the area. Darkness no longer surrounded him, he noted. Instead, he stood in the middle of a bare city street with unfathomably high skyscrapers lining both sides of him like sentries. They spanned as far as the eye could see, both ahead and behind, and their caps faded into the abyss of a high, black sky. Raphael felt very much like a rat in a maze while walking down the lamp-lit streets. He only did so because remaining still would have driven him insane._

_Or so he thought._

_By block number six the city's silence had Raphael growing insane anyway. It felt too unnatural. Where were the blaring honks of traffic? The irate pedestrians yelling profanities at rude drivers? Or vice versa. Where were the roaring subways? The mind-numbing rave clubs? The live music at Central Square? Hell, even parks had their own theme of barking dogs and kids at play. Yet here, there was nothing, save for silence. Worse still, there were no trashcans or mail boxes or newspaper stands he could vent his anger on!_

_Raphael bellowed an aggravated cry, removing the sais from his leather belt and hurling them as far as his powerful muscles could throw. The weapons echoed an unimpressive 'clank' against the asphalt, which aggravated the ninja that much more. He stalked forward, grumbling profanities with every heavy step taken, but his attention soon shifted as an alarming chill swept over his shoulders. The mutant twisted in an instant to face behind him. Though his body instinctively assumed a fighting position, it proved unnecessary; the only thing behind him was…_

"_Mikey?"_

_On the sidewalk of a street corner, amidst puddles of dried blood, Michelangelo sat. His legs were folded beneath his slumped body like one who had suddenly lost their ability to stand and his head hung limp against his plastron's hard edge. He did not move. In fact, Raphael felt as if life's touch had already left him, as if the dark chi blanketing him were nothing more than an empty shell just rotting in place, begging for an end._

_Tears stung Raph's eyes. No matter how hard he bit back the urge, it remained strong, overwhelming, and, against all better judgment, he stiffly eased towards his brother in grim silence._

_With what intent? He was not quite sure himself. He just knew he could not watch this—him, his baby brother—without helping somehow. The knucklehead…nothing should ever bring such a nauseatingly optimistic person down so low. Nothing. Heaven help whoever was responsible, too, because Raphael held no mercy for anyone who harmed his family either emotionally or physically._

_With that thought in mind, the ninja had every intention of demanding what happened. Such drive, however, was immediately replaced with confusion by the time he stood before his sibling. Amber eyes trailed to a white bundle of swaddled blankets no bigger than the length of a forearm. It squirmed occasionally within Michelangelo's loose grip in his lap, as if trying to free itself from danger. Raphael hesitated just a second before reaching down to remove the cloth that kept the being inside hidden._

_At first, only darkness could be seen, like a dimensional void. That changed in an instant. The space warped to form a pair of piercing brown eyes. They peered back at Raph, their focus oddly precise for orbs with a dead glaze over them._

_The mutant felt his stomach summersault at their familiarity. He meant to scream; he would have if his voice had not ceased up. Instinct urged him away, yet fear anchored his feet to the road. His muscles grew rigid as the bundle squirmed once again, this time with the reward of freeing a lightly tanned arm. _

_The arm did not belong to one so small. No, it belonged to one at least nine years of age. It grappled at Raphael's shin, searching, and Raph's body could not fight it. He felt its nails digging deep into his flesh, working their way up and up._

_Still, he could not move._

_Another squirm released a head, which inflated like a balloon until it swelled to a size equal to that of Raph's entire body. Its features were lifeless like its dead brown eyes, tan like its arm, and identifiable as a Hispanic boy. _

_Could Raph scream now? No; his vocal cords would not allow him the pleasure._

"_Why?" the deformed being asked in a soft, broken voice. "Why?"_

_Raphael only shook his head; it was all he could manage. The one-armed creature continued to climb his trembling form somehow. It brought with it a waft of decay that filled Raph's nostrils, bringing bile to back of his throat._

"_Why?" it asked again. This time its words were more forceful. "How could you…? You're a hero, aren't you?" By now, the head loomed over the stiff mutant and scowled. "Why?"_

"_I…I…" Raph whispered._

"_Why?"_

"_I—It wasn't supposed to…"_

"_Why?"_

"_Stop."_

"_Why?"_

"_Stop!"_

"_Why!"_

"_I'm sorry!"_

Raphael jolted from bed with a hoarse scream. The sudden action had him swooning on his feet and he found no furniture to brace himself with, though his arms searched. His unprotected knees made unpleasant contact with the concrete of his bedroom floor when he fell, but their light stinging paled in comparison to the fierce bile now projecting from his mouth. It rose so suddenly, he had no time to consider the bathroom. He could only let his stomach run its course.

'_T'at's what I get for havin' such a heavy dinner_,' Raph thought while catching his breath.

His jest, however, did little to lighten his mood. He waited there until the nausea subsided then wiped his mouth and staggered to his feet. The movement reawakened other pains in the mutant's body that sleep had let him forget, so with a low hiss, he rubbed a hand over the tender bruise on his collarbone before running a finger down a new crack in his plastron that had been chipped out not a day before. As his hand lowered to his side and he left his room in search of a mop, a burning fury flared in Raph's chest.

'_Last night. I can't believe someone half my size beat me down like t'at! Me! Whoever t'at guy was, he must've been on some form of steroids; t'at's the only explanation for him bein' so strong._' Raphael reached the supply closet at the end of the hall and opened it, searching. '_I'm sure I could've found a way to beat him if our fight continued, but I had Mikey to take care of after the big guy K.O.'d him…T'at and I needed to find out what happened wit' Don and Leo. Che, I t'ink we can all agree t'at the night was shitty…._' Behind an old vacuum cleaner sat the mop Raph required. He also grabbed the plastic bucket beside that then realized it would need to be filled in the bathroom downstairs since the tub was the only thing deep enough to accommodate it.

'_Figures…But I can't clean the floor wit'out water._'

So, with a sigh, Raph walked towards the Lair's only staircase. He half-expected to find his father watching late-night Soap Operas when he neared the second story balcony, yet only silence rained throughout the dark living room below. Good; the mutant was not too keen on the idea of being stopped and questioned about the bile that had dribbled its way down his plastron. Michelangelo had caught him in this state once, and while the shell-for-brains was considerate to Raph's plight, what little teasing remarks he did make stung the hothead's tender pride. He would not be caught like that again.

'_T'en of course t'at dumbass had to bring up my nightmares last night. I told him I dun't want Leo and Don knowin'… Just make the trip quick, Raph…_'

Raphael did not bother switching on any main lights as he descended the flight of stairs; the Lair's layout was anything but foreign to him and Leonardo ensured Michelangelo kept his belongings off the floor nowadays (for the most part). His steps from the stair base to the bathroom were silent and quick. A partly shadowed figure at the kitchen table caught his attention along the way, though he did not pause for questions. He continued with his original mission and by the time he positioned the bucket beneath the bathtub faucet, he scowled.

'_Why on earth is Anders sittin' in the dark?_' he thought. '_If she's up, she should find a way to make herself useful wit' research or somet'in'…._'

Raphael twisted the tub's clear knobs, which gave a low groan as water worked its way through the pipes, then used a sponge from the tub's inner ledge to clean the bile from himself. Neither task took very long, so Raph left the bathroom within a matter of minutes. Rather than returning to his bedroom, however, he halted by the living room sofa, vision set on the young woman slumped in a wooden chair. A part of the mutant advised him to ignore Nia all together—to go back to his mess, clean it up, then go to bed. It was the wise thing to do since he only grew short with her anyway. Even so, his legs refused to budge from their spot.

_Why does she bother you so much?_

Raphael deadpanned at Mikey's voice that suddenly invaded his mind. What a stupid question he had asked yesterday night. Why? Was it not obvious? How could she not bother him? Everything about her mannerisms unnerved him off. She was far too polite for a New Yorker, almost as if she were inhuman. Her refusal to show any passion or emotion was disturbing, but even more disturbing than that were those unfathomable teal eyes.

'_I can't stand the way she looks at us,_' thought Raph with a shake of his head. '_It's like she's dissectin' our bodies wit' her vision. It's freaky!_'

Aside from that, her constant avoidance of important matters irritated the hell out of him. It left the group in a position where they could not move forward without something happening and because of that, he could not help but snap at her. So, yes, he had a right to keep his distance if he wanted, regardless of how adamant Michelangelo sought to convince him otherwise.

So why then did he take a step forward?

"Hey," he called, "it's late. Shouldn't ya, ya know, be asleep?"

Either Raphael's presence went unnoticed or Nia did not care to acknowledge him. The human remained silent, even when Raph reluctantly set down his full bucket so he could take a seat beside her. Initially, he guessed she had fallen asleep at the table, but a repetitive movement of her hand seen in the stovetop's dim light changed such an opinion.

"What…is t'at ugly t'ing in yer hands?" he questioned.

"I—t's not ugly," the young woman replied in a hoarse voice. She lightly ran her fingers across a statue standing about a foot in height, yet that is not what drew Raph's intrigue. What did was the fact that she had been so quick to answer. She never gave quick answers.

"What? No 'Mister Raphael' addressin' t'is time?" Nia twitched under Raph's half-hearted smirk. Her eyes flicked towards him for a mere second before returning to the object before her, a deep frown on her pale face. The male sighed. "Forget it. But seriously, what is t'at? It looks like a monkey."

"It's…not a monkey…" replied Nia softly.

"If not a monkey, t'en what?"

"An angel."

Raphael raised an eye ridge. "Ya and I got some _very_ different opinions on angels," he remarked.

"It's what my daddy called them." Raph was pleased to note an offended edge in her response. "H—he said…he would tell me that they were my guardians."

"T'ey?"

Nia nodded. "Th—this statue is part of a series from South America. My family, well…m—my daddy has been collecting them for as long as I can remember. He would get one…every year…This is number twenty."

"Lemme guess. One for every year of yer life?" Raph inquired. The mutant leaned back in his seat and watched with pensive interest as a sorrowful smile drew Nia's lips upwards slightly.

"Yes," she replied. "Daddy told me…when I was very small he took me to Second Time Around. I apparently started picking them out for him."

"Uh, wait a minute," Raph added. "T'ere's a problem wit' t'at story."

"Wh—what do you mean?"

"Well, Second Time Around has only been open for the past eight years at most. At least under April's care. I t'ink her father started it before her, but…I ain't gotta a clue how long ago t'at was. How could ya have memories of Second Time Around as a child t'en?"

"B—because…the store _was_ open." Nia's grip tightened on the statue. "I—I'm very sure of it. Though…back then a man ran it. A Mister Kirby O'Neil. April's father. It—it's true that it did close…for a while. During those years, w—we bought the statues from another store that overtook the consigning…"

"I see…So yer history goes all the way back to Ape's father, eh?" Raph had intended for a casual tone, yet his words escaped with a dubiousness he often used when talking with strangers. The woman tensed, growing quiet, and Raphael deadpanned.

'_T'us she falls back into her usual cycle. Figures…do I just go back upstairs now or what?_ _It's her business if she wants to just sit here. Still…_'

"Ya haven't answered my question from before, ya know?" Raphael asked. A moment passed before teal eyes drifted his way.

"W—what question?" Nia asked hesitantly.

"Why ain't ya sleepin'?" The lump Nia swallowed in her throat was painfully obvious to spot. Raph could barely refrain from scowling as the woman began fidgeting with her hair, and after another moment of silence, he grimaced. "It's a simple question," he grumbled. "They're always simple questions. If ya dun wanna answer it, t'at's up to ya. W'atever. But Mikey's gunna blame me if ya stay out here, so why dun't ya—?"

"I—I had a nightmare."

The mutant froze mid-sentence, open mouth and all. He had to draw a light breath before speaking again, if only because he was unsure if this topic should be continued or not.

"Do ya…do ya wanna talk about it?" Raph cringed at his own uncertainty. He had to be the last person anyone would confine in for nightmares. Unfortunately, none of his family was awake and he was vaguely curious. "I mean, if ya wanna get it off yer chest or somethin'. Sometimes t'at can help…Mikey says."

Shyly, Nia glanced up and Raph quickly noted how dark the bags under her eyes were. "D—do you have nightmares as well?"

"Sometimes."

"Is that why you're up now?"

The ninja twitched. "Keep on track," he said. "Do ya wanna talk about it or not?"

"I—I…" She sighed then drew her statue into a tight hug. "If you, uh, think it would help me sleep…yes."

"I can make no promises," Raph answered without thought.

Nia hummed, her eyes set on her statue. "It's just one," she whispered after a long moment. "I've been having it every night since…since I was taken in by Miss April. I don't want to sleep anymore…because it comes so often. I try to shake it. I know it's not…it's not the truth, but I—I…I can't get it out of my head…I can't help feeling it is real." Raphael rested his arms on the wooden table top and leaned forward so he could better hear the woman's broken voice. Nia tensed at his closeness, save for her shoulders, which shook with a tired fear Raphael could actually understand.

"What do ya mean by t'at?" he asked. "When ya say 'it's not truth'?"

"M—my parents," she replied, voice cracking. "The nightmare…is about how they died…"

"The fire…"

Nia closed her eyes. "I—I can't stop seeing their faces. Mama's hurt…bleeding from her head…Daddy tries to keep her safe, except someone interferes. He—He rips them a part. His face is unidentifiable, but in my dream he feels like a demon, a—a monster. My stomach churns at his presence, and…I grow breathless and my whole body tingles like I'm swimming through needles. What I remember next…is—is just Daddy's expression…it's in so much pain, twisted, sick." Her breath hitched. "He screams to me, y—yet I can't hear what he's saying over the roar of flames. Something is tearing me from him, an unseen force. I can't get to him, no matter how far I try to outstretch my hand. I can't help him…I can't do anything…Then it all goes black…"

The last word left Nia's lips as something softer than a whisper. It mirrored every ounce of guilt and distress found within the human's shaking body, and tied a knot in Raphael's stomach simply because he had a weakness for distraught women. Her attention remained fixated on the table so intently that Raph could have sworn she was talking with the furniture, not him.

Maybe it would have been more preferable for her since he could offer the silently sobbing woman no words of wisdom or comfort. Talking about emotions had always been far from his strong point. The only thing he could do was remain silent. Perhaps she found some form of peace in having voiced her dream to someone, even him. Only when the tears dried up did he decided to talk.

"T'ink ya can sleep now?"

"I—I…perhaps," Nia replied with a sniffle. She still refused to make eye contact, but at least she gave a light, warm smile. "Uh, th—thank you…"

"It's not'in' to t'ank," Raphael said, sliding his chair back so he could stand. "I literally did nothin'…But I guess yer welcome." Raph pushed the chair back in place then returned to the water bucket he had abandoned almost half an hour ago. As soon as his three fingers wrapped around the bucket's metal handle, Nia's voice compelled the mutant to face her again. "What?" he asked.

"About last night," she started, soft, "When you and Mister Leonardo—"

"What about last night?" Raph cut in, sour memories of his failure flooding his mind.

"W—well, you both returned late carrying Michelangelo and Donatello on your backs…"

"And?"

Nia frowned. "Leonardo has shut himself in his room since then and Donatello has kept busy with his work. I have yet to talk with either of them. M—Michelangelo gave me a brief description of what—what happened when he woke up earlier, but I believe…he's holding back something."

"Is t'at so?" Raphael left his ironic snort unchecked. "It sucks bein' on the receivin' end of t'at, dun't it?"

"Please," the woman whispered. "He told me that the thieves you fought were well-trained…like the man who had supposedly tried to take me on the night of—of the fire. C—could you just tell me if they—"

"If t'ey got an alliance wit' the scientist?" At her small nod, Raph huffed. "If ya use t'at logic t'en all fighters would be tied to the same side t'rough one way or anot'er. Just because t'ey're both on the shady side dun't mean not'in'. April's quite confident t'at man is either actin' alone or wit' Bishop. Yeah, the guys from last night were…odd, but t'ey were all about jewels and gold. Ya dun't gotta worry about t'em. T'ey're just t'ieves."

"I see…t—thank you," replied Nia. She attempted a hollow smile, but it died under the weight of Raph's wounded glare.

"We _are_ capable keepin' bad guys on the run," he said. "T'ose guys wouldn't have beaten us last night if Leo hadn't been so preoccupied when Don suddenly passed out from fatigue. Idiot. We've been tellin' t'at brainiac he needs more rest."

"And yet…he's already working again?"

"Against Leo's better wishes, yeah. T'at's just the kinda turtle he is…an overachiever." Sighing, Raphael finally retrieved his bucket then sent Nia a strained smirk. "The next round will go much differently. I'll see to t'at. And since t'ey're my business and not yers, I'm sure ya gunna sleep just fine now, alright? Night."

"Yeah." Nia breathed a light sigh. "Good night…Mister Raphael…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, now you know a bit more with what's happening with Raph...And somehow these two managed to make it through a whole conversation! So strange. XD I think we need to ducktape Don to his bed until he gets a good day's rest...Until next time, folks!


	12. Meditation

**Author's Note: **Alright. Last one for the week, I believe. Enjoy an overview of where Casey and April have been, a look into Leo's mind, and...a slight turn of events...Also, thank you Duckie, Feather, and Raven Ashes for the reviews! May all your questions be answered...eventually. :D**  
Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - ****Meditation**

April shifted uncomfortably, a dark red cell phone lifted to her ear.

"She's sleeping again?" the deep voice on the receiving end questioned.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Detective Reese," April replied. "You just seem to call at poor times."

"Every time?"

"It's a gift on your part."

There was a sigh. "You honestly can't wake her up? It's five in the evening, not morning."

"No," the woman answered, quick. "It's best I don't. After two weeks, I think she's starting to settle down with the idea of…being an orphan. It just drains her emotionally, and we found she doesn't talk much. I'm sorry, but once she says she's ready, I'll be sure to tell her you called. A lot."

"Very funny, Miss O'Neil," said Hugh dryly.

"Seriously, though, do you take this much interest in all victims?"

"Perhaps. I care about them, and it is my job to follow up on my cases. Besides, she still hasn't filled out a police report."

April cringed. "Oh..."

"Yeah, 'oh'. It's been a while. She should have filled it out when the fire happened, but I didn't make her because she was in shock."

"And we're grateful for that. Um, how much time does she have left?"

"It's best to do it as soon as possible, so details aren't forgotten."

"Right. Can we do it over the phone?"

"No"—the detective sighed—"New York state law demands it must be done in person. She can either come to the police station or I can go to your apartment."

"Ugh…can someone else fill it out for her?"

"No."

"Damn it."

"Miss O'Neil?"

"We'll figure something out…"

"What is there to figure out? All she has to do is—"

"I'm sorry, Detective, there's something I have to do. We'll call you soon. Bye."

"Miss—"

April snapped her cell-phone shut quicker than you can say hello. Or goodbye. As if it had snarled at her, she hurled the device at the leather couch where Casey rested, its force just shy of pelting the male in the groin.

"Oi," Casey said in mild alarm, "wouldn't wanna damage t'at."

The redhead scoffed and ran a hand down her face. "How are we going to get through this?" she questioned. "I don't want Nia to be in trouble with the police, but odds are high that their activity is being carefully monitored. It's a lose-lose situation!"

"Uh, hello?" cried Casey slowly, shaking his head. "Nia ain't the only one bein' kept away from the microscope, remember? Have ya already forgotten why we came out here?"

"No, of course not," April answered with a sigh. Dragging her socked feet across the wood floor, the woman joined her boyfriend on the couch, a pout on her lips as she faced him. "I just feel guilty being at the farmhouse when the guys are holding down the fort in the city."

The man rolled his blue eyes. "And I t'ink t'is is a dream vacation. Neit'er of us really wanna be here, Ape, but we agreed t'at an absence from the city and keepin' ya separated from Nia would be for the best. Right?"

"Right," April grumbled. "Still…maybe we should go back after all. I feel too far away in Massachusetts."

"And where would ya stay, huh? Yer place is compromised for now and a hotel could be just as risky, even if ya paid wit' cash."

"You don't know that. The guys have been patrolling for days and haven't seen one E.P.F. soldier or that scientist."

"So? Why take the chance?" With a light grunt, Casey situated himself on the plush cushion so one leg folded over its top and the other remained touching the grand living room rug. "Look," he said, "ya told me yerself t'at we shouldn't go back until we got a better understanin' of the situation."

"And who knows when the hell that would be?" the redhead snapped. She sent the man a chilling glare. "Donny and I have been sending encrypted emails back and forth for six days now and have come up empty-handed with every route we try to take. Our first steps investigating Gavin's colleagues at Lyngavaer proved useless, while any information on Erudio Laboratories is generic at best. I swear we've shifted through so many public websites of schools and science organizations that I see articles in my sleep! Our only lead has been a face, but that isn't cutting it anymore! This is just—just—Unbelievable, that's what it is! It's—it's—it's—"

"April."

"What?"

Only when April locked eyes with Casey did she realize she felt like crying. Casey scooted closer on the couch to wrap a toned arm around the redhead's waist. He had even been brave enough to guide her head with his free hand so her cheek rested against his chest. April would have shunned such affection if she were truly irate; however, within the past day she had been pushed beyond the realm of anger to one of despair. Casey alone had to be the only thing keeping the farmhouse in one piece, and so far he was plum lucky to escape with only a few bruises as proof of his stay with her.

"It's so frustrating," April said. Her body stiffened in his grasp, her jaw square with a determination not to let any tears fall. "I feel utterly useless to them at a time where they _need_ to succeed…not just for Nia's sake…"

"But ya ain't useless," Casey replied, gruff. "Ya and Donny are smart, real smart. If t'ere's a problem no else can solve, between the two of ya, ya can solve it. Ya'll figure it out. Ya just need a little extra brainpower."

'_Brainpower…_'

April gasped. "That's it!" Jumping up from Casey's hold, April left in search of her computer from another room. Casey sat, dumbfounded, until the woman returned to sit beside him a minute or so later, a black laptop in her gasp. It had no need to boot up, seeing as how it was already running, so April immediately began composing an e-mail.

"I dun't get it. What'd I say?" Casey questioned.

The side of April's lips quirked upwards. "Genius minds often miss the most simplest of solutions."

"Simple?"

"It's why it's healthy for them to have lower IQ assistants."

"T'at…sounds like an insult."

"Don't worry, Casey, I'll give you proper credit."

"…What?"

* * *

Leonardo found himself struggling. He sat, lotus position, on a tatami mat placed in the middle of his room. But instead of finding peace within the evening glow of candles and incense, his mind grappled against its own thoughts like a cage match between wild animals.

'_The other night proved to be almost as bad as the first time we tried patrolling again,_' he thought. '_And despite two days training, we haven't improved much. Raphael and Michelangelo should have waited. They knew better and their overconfidence lead to their defeat. Mikey told me the thieves were not…ordinary, though his eyes were probably playing tricks on him. He needs to control that imagination of his…Then there's Donatello…he's more tired than he has led us to believe. I guess it's my fault for assuming he'd be fine given a few hours rest each day. He's been on a coffee and work diet for so long, his body is probably crashing. Kuso…_'

As leader, he never should have let them reach this point. It felt as if they were unraveling.

'_Raph may think that because we have routinely done something for years, it will stick forever. But that's not true. Any skill losses its potency, its accuracy, with each passing day it isn't in use. We've been away for too long…and we failed again because of it._'

Leonardo growled, yet kept his eyes closed, his tense figure steady.

One learns from failing, yes. However, the more years passed, the more Leonardo has come to realize that failing was not an option. Not for them. Not for what they were. What if they failed in covering their tracks? They would surely be found by any one of their enemies, even the N.Y.P.D. What if they failed in keeping a low profile? He could see Mikey or Raph making that slip. What if they erred in a plan? Got caught off guard? What if…what if one of them got killed because of one simple mistake?

'_A single mistake, that's all it takes…_'

Leonardo's fingers gripped tighter and tighter around his knees. The scowl on his face darkened with each memory of when they had fallen, hit bottom.

'_We've always made it through, though. Always. Even so, I just…I can't…I can't quite bring myself to feel a hundred percent confident again, especially with that mess on Tuesday night._'

He blamed himself. He had been the one least willing to resurface within the month of August. His brothers were kept below ground at all costs, and perhaps that protectiveness drove them to seek their own form of comfort in solitude. That was not how it was supposed to be.

'_It's not like I wasn't justified. I'm leader of this clan, so they're all my responsibility. I worry for them, and if I feel they're in danger, I need to keep them safe. I know now I should have attempted to swallow my fear much sooner, let us return to patrolling…yet how could I? I had been so close to losing…I couldn't bring myself to take the risk, no matter how slim..._'

Leonardo grimaced, his stomach taking a sudden turn for the worse as he recalled an early teaching of his father.

Osore—fear—is a destructive force. It eases in, subtly and unknowingly like a bacterium then settles within the confines of one's psyche, ready to spread. Leonardo had been smitten with this disease some time ago, and even now he could feel it dictating his decisions. Perhaps the only thing keeping it restrained was his heart.

'_Don said I wasn't really ready to move forward and I couldn't reply to him because I knew…he was right. This fear of mine has been so overwhelming that sometimes I'm blind to it myself. But I can't let that spread anymore, not if I wish to retain balance with my brothers. There's no doubt we will always remain together as a team, so I should let them flourish in their positions. I can't allow my concern for their safety to cloud my judgment; that's selfish. I know. And with Ander-san with us…Oh, Mikey, I'm sorry, but I had to agree with Raph. I'm not convinced she will remain true to us when she returns topside…'_

Jin. Benevolence. Splinter's voice within Leo's mind sunk his heart.

'_Sensei, I'm finding it hard to have compassion on someone so…ambiguous towards my family. She is neither hospitable nor belligerent. Michelangelo seeks the good in others to a fault. Sometimes I feel as if he's trying to convert her true feelings…that maybe…she really doesn't want help from beings like us after all…_'

Still, could he abandon her on the streets if she had no desire to stay? Could his conscience allow that scientist or Bishop to pick her out from the open? Of course not. Not without good reason, anyway. She had done nothing to endanger the clan directly, so by default she deserved a chance. Aside from that, she could not leave, not without a guaranteed promise that she would keep the Hamato Clan a secret.

'_And if she never comes to that point with us then…maybe April can talk with her…It's all we can do. For now, though, I will honor April's wishes and help. We all will…We can help._'

Finally, a sense of resolve poured into Leonardo's soul, replacing doubt and apprehension with contentment. The tension in his shoulders eased. He inhaled—deep, clean, and controlled—while his inner-self sought the astral plain that lay just beyond their physical realm. He could feel it tiptoeing closer as the seconds ticked, until it came within grasp. Exhaling slowly, he freed his breath alongside his mortal consciousness, and together they flowed out.

In this form Leo would often explore the Lair, touch those who dwelled within. It gave him a deeper understanding of himself and his clan. Only one member was ever capable of repressing his chi from perception. Splinter. However, it seemed to be a subconscious trait by this point in the master's life that he sometimes had to relieve. Leonardo admired him for that. To have such control over one's self without forefront mindfulness. How he wished he shared that same handling. Nevertheless, whenever Leonardo reached for his father's contained atmosphere, the rat did not hesitate to return the gesture. That one passing held a profound impact, like a spark of energy, and filled Leonardo with a gentle reassurance only a father could give.

Now where were his brothers?

The leader ghosted forward, drawn by the familiar warmth of his family. Out the door and over the railing, Michelangelo played a video game in the living room with Klunk curled up by his thigh. Energy discharged from him like a power plant, some positive, some negative. His playful nature—that childish bounce in his soul—was tainted, and Leo felt guilty. Tuesday night he had dashed his brother's optimistic outlook of Nia. Before that, he had refused to believe in the youngest's empathy. Now, gut feelings were never something to follow, logically, but it had been the basic principle of believing his sibling. He apologized to Mikey, caressing his brother's chi with his own, before entering one of the Lair's red block niches.

There, a figure slept in a worn computer chair before a large computer. Donatello. Normally the docile ninja's aura matched in serenity with Leo's own, often times more so. Not today. He was beyond fatigued, disgruntled with work and research. This threw his energy into a state of imbalance. Leonardo reached out to caress this chi as well, and when he did, a content sigh escaped Donatello's lips, as if he let go of a burden, though Leo could still sense his tension.

Tension.

Leonardo turned in search of the one who most often harbored tension in their family, Raphael. He was nowhere in range. The Jonin felt his hard-earned control surrendering to anger. None of them were supposed to go topside alone. What could he be doing?

'_Sono musekinin'na baka…That irresponsible idiot._'

Now was the worst time to be reckless, so when the hothead returned, Leo would give him a piece of his mind. Tempering a sigh, he pursued his next objective, who he found stationed in the dojo. Splinter kept controlled like an army general in his own lotus position, yet something about his chi felt off. Leo could detect just an inkling of irritation shining through a small crack in Splinter's composure, and he need not guess why; the answer practically smacked him in the face.

A foreign chi filled the dojo like a raging sea before his master. The waves that rolled off the figure were almost overwhelming. They pushed Leo's sprit back in a refusal to be approached, and he frowned at the sight of Nia. Even with Raphael, Leo had never been greeted with such strong emotions, such a vortex of pure chaos. Splinter attempted to quell it—it was his nature to do so. However, the harder he tried, the faster those emotions churned and churned until they discharged. The resulting force ripped Leonardo from the dojo scene back to his physical body. A surprised wheeze escaped his throat, as if someone had punched him square in the solar plexus, and he rose to his feet before his consciousness fully comprehended his body.

"Sensei!"

* * *

Master Splinter listened to the rhythm of his newest pupil's breath. It had become common practice within the past two days since he convinced Nia that meditation would be an excellent way to maintain control over her hindering emotions. Currently, the duo sat in the vacant dojo, one in front of the other.

"To become fully submersed in meditation," Splinter spoke, "one must resist arising thoughts that may enter their mind and remain focused single-pointedly on the sensation of the breath—this is the first stage of meditation." He drew in another breath then exhaled slowly. "Concentrate on that one thing, nothing else."

Breath in.

Skilled ears caught a hitch before the act could be completed.

Breath out.

A sharpened sense detected apprehension and restlessness.

Breath in.

The breathing grew erratic, more panicked.

Breath out.

"Anders-san." Splinter opened his dark eyes in time to see Nia swallow hard. "You are still filled with unease, young one."

Like a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar, Nia cast her vision down. "N—neither you nor anyone of your family makes me feel uncomfortable anymore, Mister Splinter," she said rather hastily

'_Still so brief, so guarded. What have you to fear, Anders-san?_'

By now the elderly rat should have grown accustomed to his new charge's behavior. But, regrettably, the wall she had built up between herself and the world had become increasingly more difficult to break through, to touch, compared to when he had first met her a week ago. It took a toll on the master's generous patience, especially since little (if any) progress had been made in having the young woman open up.

Repressing a sigh, Splinter shook his head. "I speak not of my family. The discomfort lies elsewhere, perhaps deeper." Nia remained silent. "To meditate is to concentrate. Its objective is to clear the mind so one can find peace and balance, but it cannot do so if you do not release your emotions. Anders-san, have you not headed my warning and allowed grief to remain within you?"

"No, Mister Splinter," replied Nia quickly.

"You are under our protection now, Anders-san. I cannot idly sit back and watch as a soul sinks into darkness before me. Believe me when I say my family desires nothing more than to help."

"So Michelangelo has said…but…but why? I've done nothing for you. You have nothing to gain. Y—You haven't even known me that long…" The lost confusion in Nia's voice made her sound so distant, so confused.

The rat forced himself to smile in spite of the concern tugging at his mind and heart. "My sons and I form a clan who follow faithfully the ancient teachings of Bushido. It is our way of life, our code, and we try our hardest not to stray from it. Gi, yuu, jin, rei, shin, yo, and chuu. In corresponding order they are rectitude, courage, benevolence, respect, honestly, honor, and loyalty. With these values in mind, my sons seek to bring peace to this city, to protect the good hearts of others."

"Good hearts?" Nia flinched as if those words were sour. "H—how can you tell if—if someone's good or bad? What if you try…to protect the wrong person?"

"Are you saying you are not a good person, Anders-san?" Splinter's tone adopted a slight edge. He remained composed, though, even in the knowledge that his son's astral presence had just entered the room.

"No," the female whispered with her head drawn down, "that is not what I meant."

"Then what was your intended meaning?" The master sighed at Nia's silence, and attempted to steer Leonardo's distracting spirit away. "Anders-san, please understand. Agent Bishop is a determined man and whatever his purpose in the city is, it is not good. Donatello and O'Neil-san have been hard at work, yet they still cannot identify that second scientist. We are unable to assess the true danger of the situation, which leaves us all vulnerable and anxious. Even so, my family strives to find answers for you. They strive to keep you safe. So tell me"—their eyes met—"why would you reveal so little to us when you know we are at a standstill? What is it that has buried you with so much fear?"

"I…I—" Nia's body seized up before another sound could be uttered. For a moment she remained breathless then doubled over, holding back a cry of distress.

"Anders-san?" The rat's voice found its gentleness again when he saw her shaking form. "Anders-san, what troubles you?"

Splinter raised a paw towards Nia, yet paused. A foreign feeling circulated through his limbs, prickling like needles. His body tensed in alarm and by the time danger registered in the old master's mind he was soaring backwards as if kicked by some unseen enemy. With a grunt of surprise, he slid several feet until stopped by the dojo wall. That is when his body grew heavy and the world faded from around him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Cliff hanger because I love you lot so much. :P Expect more of those in up-coming chapters...Ja ne!


	13. Surge

**Author's Note: **Happy Monday, all! Have another chapter, which I hope you'll enjoy. Get ready for a bit of action this week! :D**  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money of this. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 13 - ****Surge**

Donatello repressed another sigh as Leonardo hovered over the cot that had been set up for Splinter in the Lair's lab. He pushed the leader away slightly, but to his annoyance Leo seemed adamant about staying close.

"Will he be O.K., Don?" Leonardo asked, his voice just shy of panicked.

"Yes, Leo," Donatello answered, frowning. "Now will you please stop that? The last thing Master Splinter needs right now is someone breathing over him."

"Sorry…" The Jonin stepped back, yet still kept close enough that he could reach out and touch the unconscious rat lying beneath a thin blanket.

"What happened to him?" Michelangelo inquired from his seat on the other side of the bed. The concern in his eyes only grew as he scanned over their father.

"Obviously it has somet'ing to do wit' Anders," Raphael sneered. Donatello swiveled in his seat beside Splinter to face his brother occupying the arched doorway. The hothead stood rather than leaned, a scowl on his face as he fidgeted with his weapons.

"We don't know that for sure, Raph," Don said dryly.

"She was the only one in there, Don." Leonardo spoke with a dangerous calmness that tossed the brainiac's stomach in an unsettling fear. "Believe me, I _know_ it was her."

"What proof do you have?" the genius asked carefully. Leo remained silent. "We can't jump to conclusions. You both seem so certain Nia's at fault, but what possible reasoning could she have for hurting Splinter?"

"Yeah," Mikey added, "we're just trying to help her…"

Donatello spared a glance at his younger brother, who perched on a stool. He looked very much like a helpless child grasping for answers. Don could understand why. So far Michelangelo had been the only one to hold a conversation with the woman, if only because he was the only one with the required patience. Oddly enough. He saw Nia as a good person. Don did too, so this mess made little sense. Why would one with no signs of violent tendencies suddenly lash out? It was simply illogical.

'_She was mumbling to herself, crying, when I entered the dojo after being scared awake by Leo's scream_,' thought Don, '_She ignored all of us and ran right passed Mikey when he asked her what was wrong. Leo hadn't kept a cool head, and I can sympathize with him. I almost lost myself as well. It's a good Raph just came in a few minutes ago…Still, after an hour of organizing my thoughts, I still can't make heads or tails of this confusion. What happened…?_'

Donatello sighed, regaining the attention he had not realized he let slip. He still faced Michelangelo, and closely watched as the mutant's expression morphed from confusion, to hurt, to defiance all in the span of half a minute.

"This can't be her fault." Determination crept into Mikey's voice like an iron force, definite. "Nia wouldn't harm Master Splinter. There has to be some other reason. There is."

Donatello met his brother's gaze and nodded. "I believe so, Mikey."

"And just what makes ya t'ink she ain't responsible, shell-for-brains?" Don turned to Raphael when the hothead spoke. With a roll of his eyes, Raph placed his sai back into their home and crossed his arms.

"If you actually took time to _understand_ her then you wouldn't say such things, Raph," Mikey retorted.

"Well," Raph returned his youngest brother's glare, "she dun't make t'at _easy_ for us, now does she? If anyt'in', t'at makes her even _more_ suspicious!"

"Why? Because she's reserved?"

"No. Because t'ere's obviously more to her story t'at she ain't tellin' us! Ya can't tell me ya haven't noticed."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Michelangelo answered. "But no one likes being pressured for answers. _You_ of all people should sympathize with that, Raph. I—I just want her to come to me when she's ready. I want…"

"Her trust," Donatello finished with a light grin. He locked eyes with Michelangelo, who nodded in return.

"Fat chance," add Raphael, scoffing. "Does she really seem like the kind of person who _wants_ to make friends? I dun't t'ink she trusts anyone but herself, and the moment she has us get her outta trouble, she'll return to bein' a normal woman topside. What will ya do t'en, Mikey, when she wants _not'in' more_ to do wit' us?"

For a moment, Mikey appeared taken aback, but his stance quickly grew firm once more. "You're so presumptuous!" he cried. "You have no idea how sweet she can be. She's my friend and I know she _still_ will be even _after_ we take care of the situation!"

The hotheaded mutant snorted yet made no further comment, much to Donatello's relief. The purple-banded ninja sighed lightly then turned to Leonardo, who remained quiet, attention set on the figure before him.

"Don, do you know exactly what's wrong with him?" the Jonin asked.

A small groan escaped the Don's throat as he cracked his neck. "It's hard to say," he replied. "I've looked him over from head to toe, but he has no physical injuries. No lacerations, no burns, no broken bones; it's as if he's hurting for no physical reason."

"There's _always_ a reason for pain, Donny!" Leonardo snapped.

"Don't you think I _know_ that?" Standing from his seat, Donatello walked to the cot's opposing side then rested a hand on his older brother's shoulder, offering a grim smile. "We're all hurting here, Leo. He's our father too. But is it right to blame Nia when we don't even know her side?" Leonardo answered with silence, though the glint in his umber eyes did not convince Don that the matter would be settled peaceably. "Mikey, can you go get Nia?" Michelangelo nodded towards Donatello and, without another word, bounded out of the room.

"Mikey's livin' in a dream world." Raph spoke moments after his younger brother's departure. "T'at woman ain't as ignorant as she claims to be. She keeps us all at arm's length t'en t'is mess happens? She's obviously tryin' to hide somet'in'."

"I agree that it's frustrating," Don said softly, "but like Mikey said, prodding her will only discourage her. We have to find a way to get answers without being pushy."

"Well I hate to rain on her parade, but she ain't got t'at luxury in t'is kind of situation!" cried Raphael. He kept his amber eyes narrowed. "Whatever she's been keepin' from us could give us the clues we need to move forward. If t'at turns out to be true t'en I swear I'll…"

Don sighed at Raph's growl. "Everyone has their reasons. Nia must too."

"Guys!" Michelangelo's voice sliced through the Lair like a hot blade. Within seconds he stumbled into the lab, short of breath and hunched. His panicked blue eyes rolled over the group.

"What is it, Mikey?" Donatello's questioned carefully.

"It's Nia," Mikey answered. "I've looked all over the Lair. She's gone."

* * *

"Detective Reese. Shift end. Now."

Hugh Reese's head jerked up suddenly—not in alarm over a stern voice addressing him but in surprise of another kind. He had been on the verge of falling asleep—again—and his boss looked anything but thrilled to find the man still sitting at a file-infested desk. The Inspector, a rather heavy-set Caucasian nearing the age of fifty-two, stood with his thick arms crossed, as if scolding one of his grandchildren.

"What?" Hugh questioned with a blink of his tired eyes. He peeled a piece of damp paper from his unshaven face. "But it's only, uh, nine."

"And you've been here since the same time yesterday. And hours before that."

"I'm just working on some things. That's all."

"Reese." The Inspector shook his balding head. "Go home to your wife."

"I will. I will. Just let me make one more call first." Hugh reached for the cordless phone on his desk, only to be thwarted when one flustered inspector plucked it from his hands.

"No," the elder man said, firm. "Go home."

"Stop it, Wendell!" The name escaped Hugh's lips as quick as he regretted it.

Wendell's fleshy face gained several wrinkles in his display of utter anger. The tips of his ears grew red, and the phone barely held its integrity in the Inspector's mighty grip. Had his superior not been a man of rules, Hugh knew for a fact said phone would have already been imbedded in his skull. Perhaps twice over. Wendell forced himself to take a calming breath before speaking, even though Reese knew what he was going to say.

"When you are in this office and we are in these uniforms, you are to address me as Inspector Erb. I am your friend, but that does not mean I don't require respect."

"I'm sorry," replied Hugh automatically, for this had not been his first offense.

Wendell sighed. "Why do you do this to yourself? You find one small thing that bothers you in a case then you obsess over it. It's a sickness, I'm telling you. You should find help."

"Now who's being informal?" Hugh inquired, smirking in spite of the insult.

The fair-skinned man shot him a pointed glare. "I out-rank you. I have a right to kick you out of here."

"Indeed you do."

"Reese, I'm being serious. It was a fire, let it go."

"But doesn't it strike you as odd that it burned hot enough to turn five bodies to ash?"

"We found no evidence of foul play. It was nothing more than an accident."

"With no true source of origin!"

Wendell rolled his dark brown eyes. "You have the case report right in front of you. What does it say under 'cause'?"

"Faulty wiring couldn't have—"

"_Enough_, Detective Reese!" The Inspector's voice rose to a near deafening volume that had Hugh flinching. "I won't hear any more about it. Do you understand?" Silent, the dark-skinned man nodded his compliance, though the look on his face was not one of surrender. Wendell sighed again, this time with a tinge of pity. "Reese, I know you would like to think there was more to it than just an accident. You want to believe so bad that there was a deeper meaning to it all. And, frankly, I can't quite get it. Accident or not, does that bring any more value to her death either way? No. That feeling of unresolve in your heart, in your head, will do nothing but drive you crazy, trust me. Just…come to peace with it, because there isn't anything you can do now to change things or make amends."

Hugh's displeasure had grown more apparent with Wendell's every passing word. The corners of his mouth sunk downward, his honey brown eyes narrowed to thin slits. Beneath his desk, he wrung his long hands in an attempt at self-control, but the lack thereof was instead channeled through his voice when he regarded his superior with an air of defiance.

"Yes, there is," he hissed. "If anything…I can make sure her daughter's going to be O.K."

* * *

'_He's hurt. He's hurt. They'll never forgive me. They'll never forgive me_.'

These words repeated in Nia's head like a skipping record. They were the only thoughts she had when she ran from the dojo. The only thoughts she had when she exited the Lair. They haunted her even as she scrambled about the sewer before uncovering the first manhole to be found. Now, in a secluded corner of a subway railcar, she could do little more to ease her throbbing head and tingling body than to rock herself into a calmer state.

Where her destination was, even she did not know. The only certain thing she knew was that she had botched her opportunity at living in the Hamato home. Perhaps she could have pleaded to stay; however, to do so would require the unlikely mercy of two very protective brothers, and answers to questions that she had lost hope of answering long ago.

'_I—I can't believe it happened again…so soon. This stupid thing…Back there…_'

"_Master Splinter!" Leonardo cried. Only a second was required for the turtle to dash across the dojo to Splinter's side. He took gentle care in turning his father over, and frowned as he noticed something about the older mutant's stomach. Raising a hand, Splinter gawked half-consciously then fell deathly still._

That had been the last straw.

_Eyes narrows and teeth clenched, Leonardo directed towards Nia in the most hateful voice she had ever heard. "What the hell have you done?"_

'_That look on Mister Leonardo's face. I thought for sure he would kill me. I've never seen such…distress. Why did I ignore the warnings? I knew I should have left before my headaches reached this point. Gah…!_'

Cringing from nausea, Nia tucked her head between her knees and bite her lip to help silence her hitching sobs. "I'm sorry, Mister Leonardo, Mister Splinter…Mikey…" she whispered. "I'm so sorry…I'm a coward."

* * *

The subway doors released a loud hiss as they welcomed their newest arrivals. A trio of men walked over the threshold, stances superior and faces stern. At the site of the Purple Dragon emblem on their bodies, people backed away as if evading a plague, clambering to the opposite side of the railcar or even moving to a separate car entirely. Normally such a reaction would cause any gang member to smirk, even flaunt; however, not one smile could be found on the thugs' faces. They remained scowling, seeking seats as the train's automotive voice announced the closing doors and the next stop.

One figure—a crude Hispanic man with the Purple Dragon logo printed on his tattered, sleeveless shirt—slid into an empty seat at the far left corner of the car. Leaning back with an ankle resting against the top of one knee, he shook his head of shaggy black hair that a rolled bandana kept back then began scraping a fingernail over his chin strip goatee.

"Well, that dashes yet another lead," he said with a sneer. His Spanish accent rang loud and obnoxious throughout the railcar. "This is bullshit. How the hell are we supposed to find this girl anyway? Hun practically described one third of New York's female population."

"Well, h—her eyes seem pretty unique," a green-haired Caucasian (who appeared no older than seventeen or so) answered. There was a slight tremble in his voice that translated to his shifting eyes as well, which darted over passengers like a paranoid Schizophrenic. He took a seat opposite of the older gang member—careful not to sit on the extremely long scarf wrapped twice about his neck—and recoiled into the confines of his loose, black and white stripped hoodie

The Hispanic scoffed when the teen began drawing circles on the car's rubber floor with the tip of his purple High Tops. "I've told you before: that don't mean jack squat, Scales. Teal just means her eyes a little too green and blue."

"Rojo's right, it could still take weeks to find the right woman, if ever at all," the third and final member—an African-American with a shaved head and face—added. He landed in the seat between the two males then promptly removed his leather jacket, revealing his deep purple tank-top and the remainder of a Purple Dragon tattoo running down one beefy arm. He did not recline like Rojo. Instead, he used his elbows to support his weight on a pair of strong thighs.

"Uh…" Scales glanced up timidly, his wavy locks of green obscuring part his vision. "B—but, Bones—"

"I don't see how this is our problem anyway." Rojo snorted and ran a thick finger over the spiked collar around his neck. "Hun made the deal, so he should be the one to find her. The bastard even had the balls to tell us we couldn't have any fun with her!"

Bones grimaced, his prominent lips pursed for a moment. "Fun?" he asked. "That's your preference, Rojo, not mine. I'm perfectly content doing things Hun's way."

"Che, seriously? If not for the _fun_, then why did you become a Purple Dragon to begin with, huh?"

"For the money and the thrill," answered Bones dryly. "You know the reason."

Rojo smirked. "Right, daddy's boy."

"Anyways," the dark-skinned man started with a frown, "do you really want to rebel against Hun? Don't forget Skunk. Personally, I don't want to see the bottom of the Hudson River that closely." Bones shuddered involuntarily at the thought of their former gang member.

"Rebel?" questioned the Hispanic. "Hardly. If I ever went that far, I would just overthrow the entire Dragon Empire while I was at it."

"Why don't you then?" Bones' words were laced with sarcasm.

"It's too much work being responsible for all us grunts." Rojo flicked a wrist to dismiss the thought in its entirety. "Second in command wouldn't be bad, though. Perks, but not much responsibility."

"What about Dragonface?"

The laugh Rojo released was enough to startle passengers. "Dragonface is a pushover, all bark and no bite. He wouldn't cause me any trouble. After all, _I'm _the bigger alpha dog."

"You shouldn't be so cocky," Scales muttered as he snaked a hand from inside his hoodie to scratch a peeling rash on his jaw line.

Rojo twisted his head so he faced him. "You want to repeat that again, little punk?" Immediately, Scales flinched to prepare himself for the incoming punch; however, the Hispanic's fist fell when the subway lights began to sizzle then flicker.

On and off they went, as if delivering a mysterious message in mores code. Soon, the train began to vibrate with a sickening groan that was followed by a series of small tremors. Screech! The train decreased its speed until it came to a complete stop, and several passengers were tossed from their seats onto the filthy floor. The pause only lasted a few seconds before the train began moving once more, proper and smooth, like it had never been ill at all.

"What was that all about?" Bones inquired.

"I—I'm not sure," Scales replied when he pushed himself back into his seat. "A power surge? What do you think, Rojo? Rojo?"

Rojo held up a hand, a signal for silence. His watched another corner of the cart with an attentiveness matched only by that of a predator stalking its pray. A smug smirk spread across his thin lips and he stood up in unison with another figure as the next station stop was called. He kept his vision glued to that figure when he spoke.

"I do believe I found us another lead, boys; a nice little mouse."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yes, Hugh will be gaining a bigger role in the story. He's too persistent to just remain silent. :P Anyways. Next chapter will have more action, promise. Until next time!


	14. Street Fighter

**Author's Note: **Alright, so, a little action in this chapter. Thanks for all the reviews, guys! :D**  
****Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 13 - ****Surge**

Casey dared to do what most reasonable people would veto: he opened his eyes for a quick glance at his girlfriend. In the motorcycle's side view mirror, the vision of April sporting a red and white helmet vibrated. However, Casey need not see the driver's face for a clear understanding of her distress. The emotion itself coursed through her leather-clad body like a churning waterfall. Her lithe legs rested stiffly against Casey's own and she gripped the bike handles as if squeezing the life right out of them. The man wished more than anything to free his woman of such apprehension. On the other hand, he also wished more than anything for himself and his bike to remain in one piece.

"Was t'is way really necessary, April?" he screamed over the rushing air. "We could'a made good time on the highway as well."

"Too many cops," April replied as if answering a simple math problem.

"Ot'er roads could'a done just as well, ya know?" Casey cringed as they hit a particularly deep rut. "Avoidin' cops dun't mean ya gotta ride t'rough the forest!"

"Shut up, Casey!" snapped the redhead. Their speed increased just slightly. "You're ruining my concentration."

"I wouldn't need to ruin an'thin' if ya rode my bike where it's supposed to be ridden!"

April snorted behind her helmet. "I thought you were all about risk-taking, _Jones_." Her voice was more mocking than joking, yet also painfully strained.

'_She's too emotional about all t'is._' Casey fought the urge to groan. '_I knew I should'a taken the keys from her when we left the farmhouse, even if she would'a beaten and screamed at me. It's too late now…Still, we can't keep t'is up…_'

"What will ya do if onna t'ese fine rocks around give a flat tire, huh?" he asked. "It's the middle of the night in the middle of the forest. I'm sure t'at would put us back a whole day!" Beneath his encircled arms, Casey felt April's body grow tenser. She partially turned towards him.

"You don't carry a spare?" she questioned.

"Hey, eyes on the road—the trail! And no, of course not. Spares take up too much room, so I only take one if I plan a long trip."

The woman's form trembled in her frustration and with a scoff she turned her attention forward again. "Typical Casey, not thinking ahead." She grumbled further complaints while weaving between several bushes the bicycle trail would have rounded. But between the whipping air and blood pulsing in his ears, Casey could not hear them.

'_Damn woman. And she says I'm not t'inkin' ahead?'_

The man growled. "April, will ya listen to me? I know yer worried and want to get to the guys as soon as possible. But do ya t'ink we'll be able to do t'at if ya drive us off a cliff?"

"I'm not going to—"

"Ya've lost traction at least five times! Dun't tell me ya didn't because I know the feelin' of my own damn bike!" Casey had attempted to be sensitive ever since their phone call with Donatello near half an hour ago. No longer. His unbridled voice projected as a gruff bellow in spite of the helmet he wore. "It rained recently, which means t'ere's gunna be spots of mud around t'is area. Ya've lost traction on two of t'ese spots already. The ot'er t'ree were due to loose rocks. It's pitch dark. Yer goin' near seventy down a mountain trail meant for bicycles and ignorin' a good portion of even t'at! So dun't tell me what ya ain't gunna do!" Sighing, the man tightened his grip around April's thin waist, a gesture he could only pray came as a comfort. "We have'ta get to t'em safe if we're gunna be of any use. Aren't ya supposed to be the rational one of us?" A bit of rigidity eased from April; Casey could feel her become more pliable in his embrace.

"I know, Casey, I know," she replied almost too soft for the man to hear over the rushing wind. "It's just that Splinter and Nia…I don't…None of this makes any sense. They're supposed to be safe there…"

At her sigh, Casey clanked his helmet against April's own since he was unable to nuzzle her neck like he wanted. "It'll be alright, April," he told her. "I promise. The guys have it handled. T'ey always do. Now, can we please find a real road?"

Donatello entered a few keystrokes on his desktop keyboard, his eyes carefully scanning over the large map of New York City that was displayed before him on a large, flat screen monitor. April and Casey had arrived not long ago, and while Casey had immediately gone topside again, Don managed to convinced the redhead to watch over Splinter so the mutant could finally join his brothers in their search, if only from a digital standpoint.

'_I wish Leo hadn't made me stay behind,_' he thought with an inward sigh_. _ _'I'd feel better being out there with them. I guess it's only right I'm here, though. Casey makes up for my position and I'm able to keep track of things digitally…Besides, Leo was right. Splinter shouldn't be left alone…'_

"Raph, were there any trails towards the east?" Don asked over his headset.

"No, Don," Raphael replied, voice heated with anger. "Not one."

"O.K. Leo? How about towards the north?"

"Nothing yet, Don," Leonardo answered, sighing.

"I see…What about you, Mikey? Find anything?"

"No," Michelangelo responded quickly. "I've been from Washington Square to Chinatown and found zip! Where could she be? It's midnight! We only have a few more hours before sunrise!"

"Calm down, Mikey. Panicking isn't going to help us."

"I know, Leo. I'm just…We can't let her be found."

Leo hesitated before replying, his words painfully controlled. "And we won't, Mikey…Don, where should we head to next?"

With a few more clicks of his keys, Don highlighted all the blocks that had been searched in red. '_We've covered a good amount of ground already, but there's still so much left. If we don't find her soon…_'

"OK"—Don inhaled a deep breath—"you've already been through Ninety-Second and Lexington…Raph, what street are you on now?"

"Uh….I'm on the corner of Eighty-Eighth and Park Avenue. Why?"

"Nia's old apartment is three blocks from there, on Eighty-Fifth and Madison," said Don in an almost distant voice.

"Ya t'ink she went back?" Raph questioned. "Even t'ough the place is totally gutted now?"

"It wouldn't hurt to check," countered Donatello. "All the residents have been evacuated since the building is to be renovated next month. It may be closed off, but perhaps Nia would return because of that. She's still mourning her parents and…that had been the last place she had seen them alive. Maybe she thinks she can find comfort in the place that they died."

Raphael scoffed lightly. "T'ere's no comfort wit' the dead," he grumbled. "Only nightmares…"

"Raph?"

"I'll go check it out, Don."

"Wait, Raph," Leo interjected, "you shouldn't go alone, just in case. Give me a couple minutes and I'll meet you where you're at now."

"I can take care of myself, oh Fearless Leader," said Raphael with a low growl. "If ya really wanna meet me, I'll be at the apartment." Raph's line went dead before Leonardo could respond, which elicited a curse from the leader.

"I'm going after him." With that said, Leo's line, too, went dead.

"Alrighty." Don pursed his lips. "Well, call me in another half hour unless something changes, alright?"

"Right." There went Mikey.

"Gotcha." There went Casey.

Now, the tech geek was left to his own devices. He sighed, vision once again set on the map before him. "_Where are you…?_"

* * *

September air nipped at Nia's exposed arms and face like cold needles as she dashed out of the subway station. Eyes wide and breath ragged, she never once apologized to the irritated bystanders she bulldozed through. She ran blindly past unfamiliar buildings, past confused citizens, right into the darkest part of the streets possible. By the time her burning body collapsed she was several blocks away from the station, in an alley far from the main road.

'_What's going on?_' she thought. The woman sucked in long, shaky breaths, seeking to calm her adrenaline. '_On the train… Was that really…? It felt like it, like those times before, but…I—it can't be; it was too much energy, too much…It had to have been a malfunction, a coincidence; things like that aren't possible…_'

Then again, not a week ago, the thought of mutant turtles existing never would have even crossed her mind. Now, she lives with four. Or used to. Who was she to say what was possible or not?

"This is too much for me…" Nia groaned. "What's happening…?"

"Well, she certainly looks like the girl Hun described, but I can't quite tell from here, what with the poor lighting and all. Why don't we get a closer look and, heh, find out."

A heavy rock formed in the pit of Nia's stomach when a deep voice reached her ears. She hesitantly raised her head and took note of a shady trio now blocking the alley entrance. They walked towards her as casually as one walked down a city street, but their tall forms emanated nothing less than foreboding malice. Gasping, the young woman attempted to scramble away from the corner she sat in; only, her trembling legs give out beneath her before she took her first step. This action earned an amused whoop from the stocky figure in the middle.

"Oh, little mouse," he cooed mockingly, drawing down a pair of round sunglasses that rested on his large, rounded nose. "You're a hard one to keep up with, you know that?"

"Who—who are you?" Nia questioned softly. She backed herself against a tin trashcan.

"That information will come in due time," the man replied in smug amusement, a distasteful tone to any decent human being. "For now, we'll be the ones to ask questions."

"Is your name Nia Anders?" A second man stepped out from behind his fellow gang member, his dark-skinned features stoic yet almost regretful.

"H—how do you…?" Nia had to stop so she could swallow the lump in her throat. "Who are you?"

The first man chuckled. "I take that as a yes." Now at Nia's side, the Hispanic knelt before the young woman, grinning as she knocked over a trash can in her attempt to avoid him. "We have some business with you."

Before Nia could protest in any way, the man grasped Nia's arms and stood her up. She winced at the sharp pain of his iron grip, a gasp escaping her lips, and the man forced her through his comrades to an alley across the barren street.

From screaming and crying to knocking over any objects she passed, Nia tried her best to make any noise possible as they traveled down back alley after back alley. It was her only means of defense, though no one seemed to hear her, let alone come to her rescue. It seemed her cries were nothing more than an additional ballad to the city's theme that often went ignored by the natives, so the woman's nervousness drove her back to a usual habit.

"Grevy's Zebra. Daisy. Self Portrait with Camouflage. Dollar Sign. Moon Explorer Robot. Hamburger. Campbell's Soup. El—"

"Will you shut up already?" her captor snarled. "Jeeze, what are you babbling about anyway?"

Nia's breath hitched at the glare she received. "L—let go of me!" she barely managed, stomping as hard as she could onto the foot of her kidnapper. To her dismay, his grip did not falter. In fact, it grew stronger, causing her to whimper.

"Steal toe boots, little mouse," the man said with a maniacal grin. "Perhaps if you were a full grown man you could have pinched me, but not with that pitiful strength. If you really want, I could carry you over my shoulder instead."

The female's eyes widened. "No! I—j—just let me go, please!"

"If I had a quarter for every time I've heard that—"

"Stop messing with her, Rojo," the second man hissed. He glared, placing his hands in his jean's pockets. "Our job is to take her back to H.Q. then hand her over to Hun for the deal. The sooner we do that, the better. Just knock her out; she'll be less trouble that way."

"And less fun, Bones."

"We aren't doing this for _fun_!"

"Right, I forgot. We're doing this for some jackass named 'Mr. Tall', who dished out several grand just to find this chick."

"W—wait…someone paid you to kidnap me?" Bones and Rojo faced Nia, who had now stopped struggling. "Who's…Mr. Tall? I…Is he blonde?"

"That's none of your business," snapped Bones.

"What…are you talking about?" Nia attempted to keep her voice level. "That's who you're taking me to, right?"

"Y-yes, once—we clear you th-through—Hun."

"Scales, don't answer her, you idiot!" Rojo backslapped his second teammate's shoulder as a harsh reprimand.

"So-sorry," Scales cried, flinching.

"And you"—the Hispanic turned his attention back to Nia—"I told you we would be the only ones asking questions. Now move it."

"But—but I need to know why—"

"I said—oof!"

Rojo's sentence was cut short when an unseen force pushed the air right out of his lungs. The grip now loosened from her arm, Nia stumbled backwards to find the cause of his pain. Nothing. For a moment she only saw an empty alley. That is, until a blur dashed by her peripheral vision. She whipped around too quickly for her neck to handle, but the adrenalin pumping through her veins was more than enough to mask the pain.

'_Could it be?_'

"What the hell was that?" His breath regained, Rojo stood up taller than before. "I dare you to hit me like that again, punk!" he screamed into the rich darkness.

"Perhaps that would be more tempting if you were more of a challenge." The new voice seeped from every crevice of the alley, chilling like a villain in a horror movie. One thing was certain; it did not belong to any of the Hamato brothers like Nia had momentarily hoped.

Rojo growled. "Come out of the shadows and fight like a man!"

"We don't have time for this," Bones said, groaning.

The voice scoffed. "If you're an example of how a man should fight, then I'd much rather fight like a girl."

The next attack descended swifter than a diving falcon. Before the gangsters could process what had happened, they were flat on their backs, breath lost. A shadowed figure stood over them with a trash can lid in one hand, and without pausing, it hit each of them across the face until they laid unconscious on the alley floor, a bitter-sweet sight for Nia.

"And you call yourselves veteran Dragons," the figure hissed. "I've fought way worse than you back in my day…Are you alright?" Nia shied away when the figure began approaching her. "Don't be that stupid," it spat. There was a notable 'clank' as the aluminum lid dropped onto the paved ground. "If I were going to hurt you, why would I go through the trouble of dealing with these guys?" It jabbed a thumb over its shoulder towards the knocked out trio behind it.

Though the statement was true and logical, far too much suspicion coursed through Nia to allow itself to be buried by gratitude. After all, her apparent savior had already proved itself to be dangerous. Teal eyes scanned the figure for weapons or any gang signs; however, the only fact Nia could uncover beneath the barely-existing moonlight was that her rescuer was a woman, a rather voluptuous one at that. Strange, her voice seemed deeper than the average female's voice.

"W—who are you?" Nia whispered.

"A street fighter," the second woman replied simply. "Now hurry up before—"

"T—the girl must go to Hun for the deal!" a timid Scales cried out from behind. "I—I can't allow you to leave!"

The street fighter scoffed, twisting her body. "Oh, yeah? And just what are you…?" Her sentence trailed off the moment her vision fell on the bloody gangster; or more like, what he griped in his trembling hands. "Great, a gun…"

"A gun?" Nia's pitch grew high with panic. Immediately her eyes locked on the silver and black handgun Scaled pointed at them. "He's not—he wouldn't…"

"Yes, he would," the other woman added tartly. "He's a Purple Dragon, after all." Pausing, she turned to Nia. "You've never really met a Purple Dragon before, have you?"

Bang! Nia never got a chance to reply; a sudden boom pierced through the night, a stomach-churning sound that left the dark-haired woman breathless with shock. There was a scream, a gasp, and Nia's eyes grew wide at the hot searing pain surging throughout her.

Yes, she had never met a Purple Dragon before.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** CLIFF HANGER! :D Love you guys. FUFUFU. By the way, when Nia's babbling, those are titles to Andy Warhol's works. :P


	15. Rescuers and Damsels

**Author's Notes:** So, I forgot to mention last chapter like I wanted to, but if any's interested in seeing art of my _Cause and Effect_ characters ( not just Nia :P ) then check out my TMNT art folder on DeviantART. The link is located on my profile. I still have more to post and even more to draw, haha. I try to keep it spoiler-free. Anyways. Like always, thanks Duckie and Feather for the reviews. And thanks to my new readers who have faved and/or followed this fanfiction! Enjoy the chapter...though you're probably gunna wanna kill me. :D**  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 15 - ****Rescuers and Damsels**

It took a dull nip at her thumb to make April realize she had literally bitten down all her fingernails to nothing more than small stubs. The unbearable wait had caused her to take up a few nervous habits—nail biting being the most recent after rubbing her arms raw. Though she had the distraction of watching Splinter (and Klunk, who had found a comfy spot at Splinter's side a while ago) the woman could not stop questions from filling her mind with worry.

How were the guys faring? Would they be alright without traveling in a group? Where was Nia right now? Was she safe? Would the boys find her in time? And if so, would they all return in one piece? When would Splinter wake up? Would he wake up? What had really happened in the dojo?

Sometimes April wondered if Fate threw these constant curve balls at her family just to keep them on their toes. It felt like bullying more than anything.

"What? Gun fire?"

April had been straining for an hour to hear anymore updates from the turtle technician just outside the lab, so the moment the word 'gun fire' registered in her brain, she abandoned her seat before Splinter's bedside and headed for Donatello's work station. The mutant's posture was hunched in concentration as his thick fingers furiously danced across his keyboard. His face was practically glued to the computer screen before him, and he huffed at the person over the phone.

"Matte, Mikey," he said. "_Dame_! I'll call Casey; you shouldn't go alone." April could tell Donny tried desperately to remain calm; however, there was no amount of control that could hide the panic in the purple-banded ninja's voice. "Baka ne, Mikey! Will you think about this? …I know, but—Hello? Moshi moshi? Mikey…? _Ugh_!" Ripping off his headphone set, Donatello slammed the piece of equipment on his metal desktop. He groaned then let out a frustrated cry before sinking back in his cracked, leather chair. "Why can't my brothers ever think things through?" he grumbled. "Idiots…"

"Um, Donny?" April asked. Wary, she pulled up a chair next to her best friend. "What's going on?" The miserable expression on Don's face chilled April to her bones.

"Mikey heard gunfire towards East Thirty-Fourth Street," he replied. "Somehow he's utterly convinced it involves Nia. Or perhaps it's more like he wants to reassure himself that it isn't her. I don't know. Either way he's going to investigate. _Alone_."

"Alone?" April frowned as Donatello nodded.

"Yeah, he thinks by the time Casey, the closest to him, would get there it would be too late. The shooter would be gone and the victim, whoever it may be, would more than likely…" The mutant sighed. "True as that may be, what would be the point of _two_ victims?"

"I know how you feel, Donny," April said softly. "But if you think about it, it's most likely just a routine mugging or something. You guys have disarmed plenty of thugs like that these past eight years. And then some."

Perhaps she had said something wrong because the ninja's chocolate brown eyes immediately narrowed in an uncharacteristic manner that shocked his good friend. "Yeah, Ape, we have," he spat. "_Together_. Always together. We never patrol alone."

April refrained from flinching, but just barely. "I—I'm sorry, Don. I…"

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Ducking his head, Donatello attempted to position his headphone set back on his skull. "I'm just really worried about him, you know? First Splinter and now possibly Mikey, if he's not careful enough? It—it's like no matter how hard I fight it, all that stuff that happened in July comes rushing back and—and I just—just…Ah!" Trembling fingers forced the ninja to quit his task. The earpiece slipped from his grip and clanked against the desk with a sound April failed to register in comparison to her friend's breaking voice. "I don't like the thought of _any_ of them being out there alone. If anything were to happen to Michelangelo…"

Without hesitation April rose from her seat and pulled the shaking mutant into a tight hug meant to contain a few tears of her own. "I know, Donny. I know. I wouldn't be able to bare it either." She sniffled. "Just have faith in him. He'll come back to us, O.K.?"

Don simply gave a somber nod. A heavy silence followed not long after, crushing the two friends in the weight of its uncertainty and taunting hope. April broke it by reluctantly unwinding her arms from Donny's large shoulders to grip his hands before sitting back down. After a gentle, reassuring squeeze, the mutant once again picked up his headphone set.

"Uh, hey, Don?" April questioned carefully.

"Yeah?" Donatello replied.

The redhead gathered a deep breath. "While I have you alone, I want to talk about some…things."

"Things?" The purple-banded mutant paused just as he was about to begin typing again. "What kind of things?"

"Things involving Nia and Gavin."

Don frowned. "But…I thought our research on Gavin's colleagues and work lead to a dead end."

"It did," replied April.

"Then I don't get what you mean. Nia has no important records to follow of any kind, at least not that we've found. And Gavin was practically a hermit outside of his teaching job. We found that out early into our search."

"Well"—the redhead bit her lower lip—"I may have failed to tell you that I did find something in researching Gavin."

"_What_?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Slowly, April met Donatello's wounded gaze. "I'm sorry, Donny. At first, I had to…digest the information, and then I had to rationalize it in my own head. It's been bugging me for three days now. I haven't told Casey either. Really, I knew I needed to brainstorm with someone of a like-mind before I got any further, but emailing is not the same as being in the same room and I felt too paranoid to talk about it over the phone."

"I see," said Don, nodding.

"You have to promise to keep this just between us, alright?" April asked. "At least until we know for certain what I've found."

The mutant smiled. "I promise, Ape," he said softly. "So what did you find?"

The woman leaned back into her chair, sighing. "Well…I may not have been considered as very close kin to the Anders, but I did have long chats with Gavin often enough to get a good amount of back-story on quite a few geneticists and human researchers."

"Because Gavin was once a cytologist, right?"

"Right." April almost laughed. "My point isn't about the people, though. I can't even remember most of their names. My point is that Gavin would always tell me that he loved his research...which got me thinking that if we somehow found out what his research was about then maybe we could find a connection to the scientist or even Bishop."

"That would make sense," said Don. "But he was a simple teacher at Lyngavear College for the past six years and we've found little information about him in Erudio Laboratories' database."

"True." The woman frowned. "But what I found didn't come from Erudio. It came from when I, uh, hacked Gavin's email." Don raised an eye ridge at April and she let out a soft groan. "I know, I know. O.K.? I lied when I said I didn't find anything." She sighed. "Anyways, most of the content was student-related, of course. Grading. Notes. Stuff like that. But I was able to dig up some old files from when he worked at Erudio six years ago. Apparently, he was once working on some sort of big project."

"A project?" Donatello questioned. "What kind of project?"

April shook her head slowly. "I couldn't find that part out. It's mostly fragments of encrypted information. He just calls it 'My Project' in his notes. Somehow though…I got the feeling Nia was involved."

Donatello's eye ridges drew together. "How so?"

"Well," the woman started, "his notes regarding the project are quite obsessive and passionate. When he would shop at Second Time Around, Gavin would always emanate a wave of controlled danger. He was stoic and meticulous, and the only time he showed emotion was when his daughter, Nia, joined him."

"So you're saying he could only express that kind of affection for Nia."

April shrugged. "It's just a hunch, really. But that's what I believe."

"And you couldn't find any clues that could hint you towards the project's general nature?" Donny swiveled in his chair towards April.

"Maybe." The redhead sighed. "As I said, most of what I could find was school-related, so I had to really dig to find what I could. He must have abandoned the project because only one file attachment remained. A picture. The rest were just saved journal notes. But I printed that file out." Digging into her back pocket, the woman produced a crisply folded, pale blue paper. Her small smirk faltered the moment Don received the parchment from her hands, and she went on to say, quiet, "This is what's been confusing me so much."

It took a few moments for Donatello to decipher the text and graphs when he unfolded the paper, but the moment he did, his eyes grew wide, his mouth slack. April could understand why.

* * *

With stealth skills that would shame a panther, Michelangelo landed on the ledge of a factory building then blended into the shadows provided by a neighboring building for a clear survey at the scene below. A group of four thugs were rooted at the mouth of a wide alley. One—a tall figure at the end—pointed a hand gun towards the back wall. Cornered between a large dumpster and a few aged trash cans, two shadowed figures huddled near one another. The smaller one was feminine with long, dark hair and a petite frame. She gripped tight to the larger form above her, which seemed to be acting as a shield.

"Come on, girly. We know who you are!" The thug with the gun swung his weapon so as to emphasize his statement and supposed power. By doing so Michelangelo was able to catch a glimpse of the tattoo wrapping up the man's chiseled arm.

'_Purple Dragons…figures. Is that girl…?._'

"Please. I-I don't know wh-what you're talking a-about," the petite young woman pleaded, voice cracking with pure terror. "Please. Please…Let us go."

"You say 'please' one more time and I swear the next bullet will be in your leg!" At this the damsel immediately grew silent, burring her face into the chest of what Michelangelo could now tell was a wide-shouldered female with short-cropped hair.

"Listen, you damn punks," the second damsel growled, "we've _already_ told you we don't even _know_ a Nia Anders!"

'_So, I'm right, that's not Nia. Thank goodness. But…why would the Purple Dragons be looking for her in the first place?_'

"Dun't lie to us, butch. We can see that the girl behind ya has teal eyes and long black hair." This time another gang member spoke, a short male with a distasteful orange Mohawk-Mullet mix. He strolled forward to stand beside his comrade and frowned. "Just hand her over and we may let ya go."

"Disgusting pigs," the woman retorted. "I'll die before I let you touch my sister!"

"Fine, I guess we're doin' this the hard way then. Dragonclaw, if ya will."

"With pleasure, Hunt." Grinning wide with crazed amusement, Dragonclaw lifted his pistol towards the duo; however, not one released bullet hit its intended victim.

Out of instinct, Michelangelo had descended onto the Purple Dragon gang like a pouncing lion. After twisting the gun from Dragonclaw's wrist and elbowing him in the face, he whipped out his nunchucks from his leather belt to deliver fierce blows to the remaining members, who were too stunned to put up a proper fight. Doubled over in pain on the alley floor, the men groaned and Mikey used this opportunity to check for injuries.

"Hey, are you O.K.?" he inquired while stepping towards the back wall. The two girls tensed like statues, their matching greed eyes wide with a shocked fear that disheartened the turtle. "No, no, don't be scared, alright?" he soothed. "I'm the good guy. I'm here to help you."

"But—but," the eldest stammered, "You—you…you're really a—a—a"

"A turtle?" he said with a smile. "Thanks, I get that a lot."

"How—?"

"Sorry, no time to explain. You have to get out of here." Michelangelo stepped forward so he could aid the girls off the ground, but they were quick to pull away. "Please go or else—"

"They ain't goin' nowhere!"

Just as Mikey was about to turn he found himself pinned against the cool floor, one arm twisted dangerously far back and another incapacitated under the weight of his opponents' knee. There was a silver glint out of the turtle's peripheral vision, and his stomach lurched as Hunt, features severe, lifted a butterfly knife above his head.

"No, please, stop!" The youngest damsel had spoken out a little too late; the knife had already slipped in Michelangelo's side.

* * *

"Damn. Damn. Damn. _Damn_! That stupid punk. I swear if you hadn't stopped me—gah, my whole body's tingling…"

"Please, Miss, we have to get you to a hospital." Nia struggled to keep her balance when her rescuer stumbled, causing more weight to shift on her shoulders than she could normally manage. "You could bleed to death!"

The woman scoffed. "From a flesh wound like this? Ludicrous. You must watch too much T.V."

"But the bullet went straight through your side!"

"And right into _your_ arm. You had a higher risk of bleeding out than I did. You're lucky no main arteries were hit."

Nia's eyes trailed to the tourniquet wrapped around the upper part of her right arm, thoughts drifting back to when Scales fired at them. The bullet had indeed torn clean through the woman's waist and imbedded itself into Nia's tricep. While Nia had been stunned with pain and a familiar tingling sensation, the fierce woman had twisted around, as if never harmed, and proceeded to punch Scale's in the face until Nia's conscious was roused enough to stop the beating. Afterwards, the rescuer—whose clothes hinted towards homelessness—had been kind enough to tear off a piece of her worn sweater to stop the bleeding for them both. If Nia had acted faster, she would have done the same, albeit quite reluctantly seeing as how doing such would mean ruining one of the five outfits April let her borrow.

"Don't worry about me," the second female spat. "Really. Such kindness, it's an insult."

Nia stopped suddenly to look into her rescuer's eyes. Under the grim light of what few street posts were provided she could make out a shade of icy azure that could have frozen water on the spot. Of course, her matted auburn hair and weathered, tanned skin did little to add to her civility.

"I don't…understand," Nia spoke after a moment of silence.

"Of course you don't," replied the redhead with a nonchalant shrug of her wide shoulders. "You must come from a privileged home, so I don't expect you to understand." She released her hold around Nia's neck to stand on her own, and despite her wobbling legs, she looked stronger than before. "I can take care of myself, always have. I never asked for you to escort me nor accompany me."

Like a scolded child Nia hunched her shoulders. "If that's how you feel then…why save me in the first place?" Her question must have been a profound one because for the longest time the only reply she received from the woman was a solemn stare, one that looked honestly contemplating rather than blank.

"I don't know," the taller woman finally replied. "I guess that damned mechanic is rubbing off on me or something. But the 'why' doesn't matter in this case. You were saved, you should be thankful for that at least."

"I am," Nia answered softly.

"Then that's all there is to it. Go home, clean that wound, leave me be. I'll find my own way." With a roll of her eyes, the woman crossed the street on her own proud legs and disappeared into the night, leaving Nia as alone as she had been at the beginning of this disaster.

* * *

"It's about time ya got here, Fearless! What kept ya?" Raphael scowled the moment his brother's figure entered the gutted opening of what had once been a grand, two-pane window. "I've already searched t'is place over."

"Will you get out of there?" Leonardo immediately hissed, tossing an arm above his head. His eyes quickly traveled around the apartment's collapsed walls and piles of charred debris before settling on one of the many holes that revealed the steel beams of the seventeenth level's ceiling.

"It's fine, Fearless," Raphael teased with a snort. "I've figured out where we can and can't walk."

Leo sighed. "Whatever. Just get out. Nia obviously isn't here."

"Hey, t'at dun't mean t'is trip was a waste," the red-banded ninja added. He effortlessly bypassed the floor's traps and joined his brother on the wide, brick opening.

"What do you mean?" questioned Leo, low.

Raph smirked. "Like I said, I've searched the place. A lot of crap definitely ain't salvageable, but I did find somet'in' quite interestin' beneath a bookcase t'at kinda survived t'is fiasco."

"And that would be…?"

"T'is." Reaching into his elbow pad, the ninja pulled out a warped photograph. Leonardo's eye ridges drew together as he plucked the photo from his brother with a forceful tug. His eyes narrowed not at the focal group of the picture, but at something else in the upper left corner, something Raphael had no doubt been quick to notice as well.

The Jonin's frown deepened. "Is that?"

"Yeah," Raph answered. "A link."

* * *

**Author's Note:** MY BABY! *sobs* Do you know how vexing it was to write the end of Mikey's scene? Because it was very vexing. And this is how I have to leave the story until next week...I've already given one more than I said I would. I think I've upped the update number to three chapters a week instead. PFFT. Sorry, Feather, no answers yet. Just more questions. And cliffhangers. Yup.


	16. Summers?

**Author's Notes: ** Well, chapter fifteen seems to have gotten you all in a tizzy! Good. It means I've done my job. :P I would like to thank Duckie (who is awesome) and Feather (who is also awesome) for their continued, in-depth reviews. Duckie, I LIVE for cliffhangers. ;D Feather, to me _nothing_ is unimportant in a story. Just saying. I would also like to thank CrimsonsDragon, who I'm glad loved Don's emotional outburst. Kagayaku Hoshi-chan, LoCee, and vickyaisha thanks for the encouragement and love and welcome to the thrill ride! At least, I hope it's thrilling and I'm not actually one of those people who thinks the kiddie roller-coaster she's sitting in is going too fast. Eh, anyways. This week I'll be posting more chapters than I said I would (again), but that's only because of some...OCD matters. After that, I'll be fine doing two a week for a bit. Maybe. No promises...ONWARD TO THE CHAPTER!**  
Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 16 - ****Summers****…****?**

A raspy sigh escaped Casey's throat as he dismounted his parked motorcycle. It took all the energy he could muster just for his legs to drag him across the road to a partially-lit alley on Eighty-Sixth Street, where he had been instructed to join Leonardo and Raphael. Apparently, at one in the morning, not a single one of them had found clues in regards to Nia's whereabouts. Even so, the two eldest Hamato brothers had called earlier to report that they found something in the Anders' old apartment that would shock them all. Casey was not quite sure what that meant. Judging by the condescending tone in Raphael's voice, though, the man could tell he would not be too fond of it.

"Ugh, where is t'at lame brain? He said he was on his way."

"I'm right here, _Raph_. Quit yer yammerin'." Casey gave a quick glance to the mutant hiding in the dense shadows then leaned against a brick building that was bathed in the soft glow of a room on the second story of the opposing building.

"Well, it took ya long enough," Raphael commented. "What'd ya do? Stop for a coffee break?"

Casey's heavy eyes settled on his best friend, whose silhouette he could barely detect. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must'a forgotten my magic Speedster costume at home. I wasn't the _only_ person drivin' around the west side, ya know?"

"At least ya _had_ a motorcycle," countered the mutant. "It shouldn't take any more than ten minutes to get here from Sunny Drive. Ya took twenty!""

"Hey, it ain't _my_ fault yer bike's in the shop!"

"Casey, Raph, calm down." Leonardo intervened just as Casey growled and pushed off the building. The man sensed Leo raise a hand and push Raphael further into the darkness. He knew the Jonin did this to keep the duo from continuing their argument rather than to keep his brother from stepping into the light.

"Whatever," Casey grumbled, returning to his spot. "Now tell me what's so important t'at it couldn't wait 'til we found Nia."

"Why would we wait when we finally found a clue to discuss?" Raphael countered with a snort.

"We're still on the lookout for Nia, "added Leonardo stiffly, "but Raph wanted to show you what he found before she…returns. We sent a message to both you and Don back at the Lair. When you didn't meet us here in the first fifteen minutes, we went ahead and took a picture of the clue to send to Don's Shell Cell. Right now we're waiting on a reply."

"What kinda clue is t'is?" Casey inquired.

"Photographic proof," Raph responded. The hothead immediately outstretched a dark green hand from the darkness into the warm light so he could display a photograph to Casey. The man left the wall for a better view. Despite its charred edges, warped surface, and a hole in the lower left corner, one could imagine what the standard print had been like in its prime. The setting was your generic research lab—complete with monochrome walls, a drop-down ceiling, bubbling beakers, steel tables, and large cables that powered everything from super computers to air-conditioners. At the focal point were two contrasting men, a woman, and an unenthused younger Nia, who stood before them all like a lifeless corpse on its feet.

"Where did ya get t'is?" asked Casey, attention set on Nia's dim eyes.

"I already told ya, in Anders' old apartment," Raph answered. "A water line must'a burst from the heat in one of the bedroom and when the ceiling burned up it let the water flow into the room. The water soaked a bookcase, keepin' it from catchin' fire. I found t'is underneath t'at. Notice anyt'in'?"

Casey was about to shake his head when he felt his phone vibrate in his back jean pocket. He reached behind him to retrieve it, noting that Leonardo and Raphael did likewise with their own phones.

"I guess Don just felt a need to text us all," Leo said once he flipped his phone open.

"Maybe he ain't sure if we're all toget'er yet," added Raph.

"So," Casey started as he read over the text message, "the short, Caucasian male is Doctors Marx and the Hispanic woman is Doctor Jensen."

"Seems Don knows them from a few science magazines he read a while back," Leo commented, "when they worked for a company before it went bankrupt. The other man with red hair—"

"Is Gavin, Nia's father," interrupted Casey, his brows furrowed. "T'at's the end of the message. I'm still not gettin' how t'is is a clue. She's in a lab, yeah, but since we know Gavin's a past psycho—cona—sin—_scientist_ t'at really ain't much of a surprise."

Raphael growled and stepped out of the shadows, closer to his best friend. "Ugh, is everyone but us blind?" He furiously texted a reply then held the photo up again for Casey to take a second assessment. "Look!" He aimed a thick finger near a blackened corner on the left. "How could ya miss him? He's right t'ere!"

"Let me see t'at," the man muttered. He snatched the picture from his friend's hand and glared at the spot Raphael had pointed at. It had been difficult to note from afar, but a closer look revealed a recognizable figure walking in the background as a bypassing member of the lab. "Is t'at…Stockman?"

"Yeah, it's Stockman," the red-banded mutant answered sorely. Their phones vibrated again before anyone else spoke up and the trio sparred no time in reading Donatello's reply.

_Hey, don't get snappy at us because the photo is hard to see with such poor lighting! That aside, this picture was taken years ago. Look how young Nia is. She can't be any more than ten. April and I agree, what role does Stockman play in all this? Yes, he was once an E.P.F. lackey. To our knowledge he still may be. But other than that connection to Bishop, he hasn't come up as important. Wouldn't we be going on a bit of a stretch by connecting Gavin with Stockman instead of that other scientist? They didn't even study in the same scientific field!_

"Perhaps they're right," Leonardo grumbled after a long moment. "But this is the only lead we've had in the past week. We need to assume this is no coincidence. Maybe Mister Anders and Stockman once worked together. Maybe they didn't. Maybe Stockman was just visiting. Maybe they were college chums. Maybe they were bitter rivals. We don't know. Whatever the case may be, it's possible this picture links the two men together and thus to Nia. We would have to ask her for clarity."

Raphael snorted. "Good luck wit' t'at."

"Ya know, ya really ain't helpin' the situation here, Raph," Casey spat, his blue eyes narrowed. "If t'is is how ya act around her, t'en I don't blame Nia for runnin' away."

"Hey, if the chick were stronger t'en she could handle t'is situation," the hothead retorted quickly. "But she ain't. T'at's why she ran. It's got _not'in'_ to do wit' me."

A jolt of annoyance coursed through Casey's body, causing his eye to twitch as he huffed. "I ain't so sure about t'at," he said, low. "I haven't really been here to watch how ya'll act toget'er, but somet'in' tells me both ya and Leo scare the shit outta t'at girl. Mikey must be the only one she truly feels comfortable around. Is t'at why he ain't included in t'is little family meetin'?"

"_Mikey_—!" Raphael stopped himself short, mid-yell. "Wait, we left t'at shell-for-brains a message over twenty minutes ago. He should'a answered by now."

"Ya did?" asked Casey, frowning. "Well where the hell could he be?"

* * *

The voices that reached Michelangelo's ears grew jumbled within his mind, so he could not quite gather where he was when he slowly began to rouse from unconsciousness. His body felt heavier than lead and he wanted nothing more than for sweet sleep to overcome him again. Alas, such a fate must not be meant for him, not if these arguing girls had any say in the matter.

"I can't believe you talked me into this, Miriam. I really can't." One voice was obviously displeased. It sounded a tad gruff, yet still retained a sense of femininity.

"What are you talking about, Jezebel?" The second voice defiantly belonged to a younger girl; she held that darling kindness as well as a slight undertone of whining. "We couldn't just leave him there! What if those thugs had woken up before him? They would have killed him!"

"We can't keep him here."

"He saved our lives!"

"He's a turtle—_thing_—for God's sake!"

'_Ugh, please stay quiet._' Mikey tried mumbling a few words in his state of semi-conciseness, names, questions, yet nothing came out articulate. '_Why is it so hard to talk?_'

"Oh, you're awake!" The orange-banded mutant nearly jumped when a soft hand grazed his arm. "Hey, it's O.K.," the second voice spoke. "I'm the good guy."

Michelangelo managed to open his eyes after several more moments, and when he did he was met with the blurred site of a young woman kneeling next to him. She remained still as he regained his vision, almost unsure what action to take, but then she winked—a perfect match in behavior to the childish mischief that lit her green eyes and quirked her full lips up in a smile.

"My name is Miriam Summers," she said, flipping long locks of dark brunette hair over her shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Michelangelo froze suddenly, a weighted stone growing in his stomach. '_Summers…?_' he thought. '_No…No, get a grip, Mikey. Summers is—is popular enough for a last name. That—that would be too much of a coincidence. Just…let it go._' Dazed baby blues rolled towards Miriam's curious face as the ninja tried his best to push away his memories. Taking a deep breath, he tried sitting up; however, such a task would have been far easier had a searing pain not been coursing through his left side.

"Hey, take it easy; you were stabbed!" Concerned eyes roamed over the terrapin's body before stopping at his face.

"Stabbed?" Mikey asked softly.

The female nodded. "Yes, don't you remember? Last night you—you saved me and my sister from being shot. Or worse."

It took a few moments, but Michelangelo did remember. '_That's right. I was looking for Nia when I came across some Purple Dragon thugs. Right? Right. They had…guns? No, only one of them had a gun, the psycho one. Or more psycho one. They were trying to take the youngest. Why? …Why? Because she looks similar to Nia. Does she really?_' The mutant spared a glance at his self-proclaimed nurse, who had apparently left while he was lost in reflection and returned with fresh water. She smiled at him while offering a glass cup, a polite yet still frightened gesture. '_Very much like Nia_,' he thought. '_Aside from the olive skin_.'

"Here," she said, "drink some of this. You must be parched."

Mikey nodded reluctantly then grasped the cup with a shaking hand. While drinking the best he could half-sitting up on a leather couch, the mutant observed his surroundings. The high rise ceilings rested atop muted yellow walls and dissuaded any sense of claustrophobia that would have otherwise accompanied the small living space. A large entertainment center took up the bulk of the front wall with two plotted plants barely fitted on each side. Beside those plants were two hallways that must have lead to bedrooms in the back. Towards the left, a quaint dining table sat below a pendulum light, two chairs at each end, and an even quainter kitchen lay behind that. The right of the room held nothing more of interest other than an end table at his feet, accompanied by a floor lamp, and a large mirror with a crack running vertically through it. In all, the apartment seemed squashed, but the general feeling was one of class. Except for maybe that cracked mirror.

'_Well, I'm definitely not in that alley anymore, but where is my exit? Doesn't this chick have any windows? Or at least a door?_'

"Miriam." At the sound of another woman's voice Miriam tore her attention away from Michelangelo and directed it towards the end of the couch. Michelangelo himself almost jumped. How had he forgotten a second person was in the room?

'_My mind must be seriously scrambled…_'

Mikey bit through the fierce pain in his side so he could sit upright on the couch. He glanced over Miriam to a female figure leaning against a large window that had been in a blind spot of Michelangelo's previous vantage point. She returned his gaze with narrowed eyes that matched Miriam's in regards to color, but lacked the latter's warm curiosity. Her stance was just as tense as Raphael's when he was one edge, and in all honestly Mikey would have taken her for a fighter if he had no memories of last night. Even her pixie cut of light brown hair cried out warrior.

"Get his things, Miriam," the woman said after a brief moment.

"But, Jezebel—"

"I _told_ you he can't stay. It's too risky, for all of us." Jezebel gave a stern glare that Leonardo would have been proud of. No more than three seconds later, the younger woman sighed and disappeared down a hall.

"Where…am I?" Mikey coughed, a most painful action.

"Out of that alley," responded Jezebel dryly.

"Heh, that sounds like an answer my brother would give."

The woman stiffened. "Th…there's…more of you?" The ice of her voice melted just slightly.

"There're enough of us." Michelangelo grinned wide at Jezebel's perplexed expression. "I can play that game too."

The brunette smirked, running a few fingers through the spiked part of her bangs. "Fair enough, I guess."

"Can you at least tell me what time it is?"

"I'm getting ready for work, so…between four and five in the morning."

"_What_?" Mikey yelped.

"I've got his stuff, big sis. But does he really have to leave right now?" Miriam returned with Michelangelo's missing accessories as well as down-pulled lips, which expressed utter disappointment at her guest's departure.

Mikey offered her a small smile. "I'm sorry. I do appreciate your kindness, but I have to get home"

A chuckle echoed through the room, a near-mocking sound with an underlay of amusement. "Don't let her innocent face fool you, turtle man." Jezebel pushed off the window and walked over to poke her sister's forehead. "This girl right here is a wolf in sheep's' clothing, a Trojan horse. She's only interested in finding out your deepest secrets."

"What? Am not!" the sister cried out, pouting.

"That's just the type of person she is. So you'd better run while you still can."

Unfortunately for Michelangelo, he could not tell whether or not Jezebel was serious. He usually prided himself on reading people, but there was something about her piercing eyes and ambiguous smile that made him uneasy, even if she had helped save him.

"Listen…I'm sure I have several strongly-worded voicemails from a particular person to reply to," he spoke hesitantly. He straightened his posture with a cringe and reached towards Miriam, who was proclaiming offense at her sister's words. "Hand me my Shell Cell, please."

Miriam glanced at her arms then towards him. "Um…"

"Just bring it all over here, O.K.?"

* * *

As night time waxed on in the south-eastern part of New York City it grew colder and colder, which had not been such a grand thing for Nia. She had been in such a hurry to leave the Lair that she forgot to slip into a jacket, so now she was left to brave the elements in a thin pullover and ripped jeans. Sure, she wore yellow tights as well, but those were more for show than insulation.

Rubbing her hands together, the young woman contemplated on everything that had passed within the last several hours. She had hurt a friend, been kidnapped, been shot, and been saved within the span of a night. It felt as if she were living a network drama. Needless to say, leaving the Lair was a decision Nia was now regretting. Not only because it was chilly out, but because the young woman was also lost, hurt, hungry, and tired with literally nowhere to go but the streets—streets which were teeming with gangs. At one point in the night, running away had been a welcoming idea; now it just seemed silly. And stupid. If those three Purple Dragon thugs were any indication as to what would be in store for her in the future if caught by this 'Mr. Tall' then Nia did not want to face him alone. Ever.

She needed a new plan; a better plan. A plan that did not involve starving and being kidnapped. She knew exactly where she needed to go, where she should go. But could she return after causing so much trouble?

'_Come to think of it…I have no other choice._'

"April and Mikey are going to have my head," the female said through chattering teeth. "At least they'd feed me afterwards, though…I hope."

"Ugh, be careful with my leg, dude!"

A pained cry drew Nia's attention upwards to a small balcony. Somehow the woman had wandered into another alleyway, this one consisting of expensive apartments on both sides. Soft light filtered through the back doors of a particular apartment on the second level. Since it was on the corner lit by a lamp post, Nia could make out a few figures from her vantage point, as well as a familiar voice. Though certain of her hunch, the woman held her tongue until a better view of the group could be seen. When one shadow figure hopped off the balcony edge to reach inside, a display of muted green skin and blue bandana tail could be seen.

'_Mister Leonardo…_'

Every bit of Nia's heart wanted to call out to the Jonin; however, shame held her back. So, biting her lip for silence, she waited to see what he was up to first. Donatello accompanied his eldest brother, but Raphael was nowhere to be seen. After a few seconds the mutant duo escorted a limping figure out the back door, taking care in moving him. Nia frowned then; she knew who that was.

"Nia? Hey, guys, I think that's Nia down there!"

Michelangelo had barely finished his statement when Leonardo flawlessly landed nearly a foot in front of Nia. The young woman gave a startled cry as Leo straightened to his full height—a full head taller than her.

His umber eyes were unreadable, his muscles tensed, and he spoke in a strained tone that dropped Nia's stomach. "_You_ have some explaining to do."

One quick glance at Donatello helping a gimping Michelangelo over the balcony ledge had Nia moaning. "I know," she whispered. "I'm so sorry…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And Nia's back with the crew! What will happen now? Dun dun dun. Oh, when Casey mentions 'Speedster' costume, it's a parody reference to 'Speed Racer' since in the 2k3 TMNT universe that's what they had to do, make parodies of popular things. XD Next chapter should be out Tuesday.I think. See ya!


	17. Apologies

**Author's Note: **Yes, guys, I know. I was supposed to get this out Tuesday. Some RL things got in the way. Coupled with my brain dead nature, I just couldn't bring myself to post this. So sorry! Anyways. This chapter is a bit lengthy (almost 5k words) and I do apologize for that...On the upside, some questions get answered. Huzzah! I hope you enjoy. I don't know when chapter eighteen will be out. *won't set a day this time***  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. An OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 17 - ****Apologies**

April ceased pouring a cup of coffee in the Lair's kitchen so she could draw her attention to Casey, who sat comfortably at the kitchen table. "Huh?" she dumbly asked.

"I said, how's everyone doin' t'is fine mornin'?" Casey (apparently) repeated. His drooping eyelids read half-asleep as they blinked every few seconds, and on any other occasion April would have shook her head at the man's nappy appearance of disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt and stained jeans.

'_I can't chastise him for looking like a bum this time,_' she thought. '_Five hours of sleep barely counts as a night's rest. At least I managed to usurp Nia's brush to fix my hair…_'

"They're restless, as you can imagine," stated April after her pause. She had filled her cup and moved on to a second. "Donny finally passed out after examining Mikey and Nia. I'm not sure if he's up yet or not. Raph is still squirreled away in his room, and Leo…"

"Is he still not talkin' to anybody?"

With a light sigh April placed the carafe back on its warming plate and began adding a small amount of sugar and milk to the drinks before her. "I think he's…way beyond pissed at Nia. And I can't bring myself to be upset with him; this whole thing turned into a mess that I can't help but feel responsible for. _ I_ had been the one to ask for their help, and now both Splinter and Mikey are hurt."

"Uh, Nia's hurt too, remember?" questioned Casey, somewhat harsh. "Look, I'm kinda pissed at her myself for leavin', but I dun't blame her or ya for what happened last night. Maybe Nia did hurt Splinter. If she did, t'ough, it must have been an accident. As for Mikey, he got himself hurt."

"_What_?" April whirled to meet the man's impassive face, yet he kept his composure. "You're going to _blame_ Mikey for being stabbed?"

"I never said t'at!" cried Casey. "But _Nia_ didn't force Mike to take on t'ose goons. Yer well aware of t'at."

April tried keeping her glare steady, tried remaining angry. Instead, something about Casey's stern gaze had her heart aching as she recalled Michelangelo's plight.

'_Don said most of the knife slipped into a tender spot under Mikey's marginal scutes rather than running straight into his side. It was an awkward place, but thankfully no vital organs were damaged. Just some blood loss, a slight separation of his shell, and torn muscles…I'm so glad it wasn't worse._'

With a grim sigh, April twisted to grab the mugs from the counter then slipped into a seat opposing her boyfriend. "I _do_ know that," she finally said, soft, defeated. "I'm just frustrated with how everything's turned out. Like those girls? What if they decide to _call_ someone?"

Casey's careful expression never changed when he relieved April of one mug. The woman knew without a doubt he felt the same anxiety as she did, only he was attempting to rein it in, perhaps for her sake. By aid of the man's rough hand, the redhead locked eyes with him. He regarded her with a tenderness not even she saw often and his touch on her jaw left her eyes prickling. Somehow she managed to blink away the tears.

"Hey," he said. "T'ose girls had a chance to turn Mikey in. T'ey didn't. T'ey got no idea who he is or where he came from. He's back wit' us now, and safe. Right now, t'ey're the least of our problems. I'm more worried about Raph and Leo."

The woman's teeth ground as she jerked her head from Casey's warm fingers. "Me too," she whispered. "Really, I thought helping Nia would give them a positive push, not cripple them even more."

"Still…t'at ain't Nia's fault, t'ough, right?"

"Right. I just…" April sighed. "I want to support them all."

"So do I, babe, but I also can't _stand_ the way Leo and Raph have been cuttin' into Nia like a crime suspect because of t'eir own problems. It's unfair and not the way her situation should be handled."

The redhead raised a single eyebrow. "Seriously? They've been no more sensitive than you were when you talked her out of my guestroom."

"T'at was different," Casey retorted quickly. "I related to her, I t'ink. What Raph and Leo have been doin' is scrutinizin' her. Believe me; I heard enough of t'eir remarks last night to know where I'm gunna stand if t'ey bring up t'at photo."

"What photo?"

"Ya'll find out. Maybe. Meanwhile just…stand by me, alright? Perhaps between ya, me, Don, and Mikey we can finally get t'rough t'ose two t'ick skulls."

"Says the third thick skull."

Casey frowned, though April had only meant her words as light teasing. "Come on, Ape, I'm serious. Ya _know_ what Leo's like when he's made up his mind about somet'in'. He's worse t'an both me and Raph combined. We're gunna need ya on our team."

"Alright, alright," the woman grumbled after a short pause. "But if they get hostile towards me, I may make things worse. I won't be able to hold my tongue."

"T'at could be a good t'ing," remarked Casey with a smirk. "Bein' blunt has always worked for me. It worked for Nia. Why not t'ose two?"

"I guess…." April leaned back in her wooden seat then sent her boyfriend a strained smile. "So what do we do now? I'm definitely sure that I don't want to return to the farmhouse."

"Ya got somet'in' against my granny's place?" Casey retorted, mouth set in a tight line.

"You know that isn't it, Casey," April replied heatedly. "I like being closer to the guys, and if I'm in the city then I can brainstorm with Donatello in real life. It's easier and safer than through email. My place is out of the question still, I know, so a hotel will have to do."

"A hotel can be tracked."

"Well, what do _you_ suggest we do?"

The man's barrel of a chest rippled with a light chuckle, despite the striking green eyes narrowed at him. "Well," he drawled, "if ya really dun't wanna stay at the farmhouse t'en we can go to my place instead."

April blinked. "Your place?"

"Yeah." Casey answered so casually that April felt the world shift just a fraction.

"I thought you got _evicted_. That's why you're loafing on my couch until you work up better credit to get a new place."

The man waved a dismissive hand then settled it back around his drink, which he finally tasted. "Nah, I got a new apartment soon after. Still got it, actually. My new job pays well enough."

"Then…why are you staying on _my_ couch?" April ensured each word grew in emotion; nevertheless, Casey had the audacity to smirk.

"How could I pass up yer wonderful offer to let me stay wit' ya?"

"Oh, you. _You_…" If her surly look did not scream its intent before, it sure did now.

"Can ya really blame a guy? I do prefer livin' wit' a good cook."

No sooner did the last syllable leave Casey's lips did April stand up, send her chair sailing backwards, and slam her palms on the table top. "Ugh, I can't believe you—you jackass!" she cried shrilly. "_Lying_ to me? Why would you do that? We could have stayed in the city to begin with!"

"Relax, April." Casey flinched, ducking his head a bit. "Honestly, the place I got is not'in' more t'an a rat hole. Really."

"If you're looking for an excuse, that's not it," the redhead hissed. Her short fingernails left indents in the wood grain as her fingers curled to form fists, and Casey's eyes watched them for a moment before returning to the ground. "Why drag me all the way to the farmhouse if we could have stayed closer?"

"Because…"

"Casey, I swear—"

"I didn't tell ya because I didn't _want_ ya in the city, alright?" Casey screamed. April once again caught her boyfriend's gaze like magic. She could feel her anger slipping from her grasp the longer those wounded eyes starred into her soul. "It's quite possible yer still a target as well," he continued. "Until we got more information, I wanted ya to stay as far away from the city as possible. I…I just…"

"So you were trying to protect me…" A spark of flattery tugged at April's heart despite herself. She shook her head. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me like that. He can't have eyes all around the city, right? Besides, so long as Nia isn't with me…I don't think he'll bother me."

Casey flashed a look, but sighed in resignation seconds later. "If ya t'ink so," he grumbled. "Meanwhile, when t'ings go back to normal, will ya still allow t'is humble rat to enjoy yer couch a little longer if he promises ya somet'in' great?" Not an inch of April's face hinted towards a positive answer. "Seriously! I'm sorry for lyin', Ape. I am!"

The woman twitched. Damn that puppy dog face of his. How could he manage to pull that off with such a gruff exterior? It should have been creepier than anything. Unfortunately, it was effective.

"Fine," huffed April. "But until we can go back there we'll stay at your place." Casey groaned. "Hey, would you prefer staying down here in the Lair?" she asked.

"Not exactly…"

"Then it's settled."

"Alright,"—a smirk crept back on the man's tanned features— "but dun't be surprised if we have to share a bed."

April flashed a smirk of her own, one which told him she would be getting that bed regardless of any arising issues. "We'll see," she said slyly. "Now…Let's go prevent Leo from committing murder."

* * *

Leonardo paced throughout the Lair's lab. Even by ten in the morning, he had yet to leave this room, yet to abandon Splinter's side, yet to rest for more than two hours. Earlier—when the trio of Hamato brothers returned with Nia in tow—Donatello had suggested Leo retire to his room for the better, but how could he with so much on his mind?

While eight hours of searching New York City had left the remainder of the group exhausted, it had done nothing to Leonardo except fuel his drive. He had ensured after Donatello examined Michelangelo's wound that both brothers made it to bed. Raphael had been nowhere in sight, yet he knew the hothead remained in the Lair since April claimed he retreated into his room the moment Donny called to relay Nia's appearance. Casey had crashed on the couch, Nia had retreated to her room, and April had usurped Leo's bed with his permission.

In the time his clan spent the Jonin argued every possibility, issue, and question that had presented themselves within the past week. His mauling left him empty-handed, however; he and gained more concerns than solutions and they all rooted to one single problem.

'_Her guard has done nothing but cause us problems. This whole time she's had a connection she hasn't told us about and because of her carelessness in running, my family got hurt. Not only that, but Mikey had to be picked up from those girls' apartment. Who knows what they'll do knowing he exists now… _'

"Uh, Leo, will you please calm down? You're making me nauseous."

Leonardo stopped mid-step then turned his attention to Michelangelo, who sat in a chair modified to keep pressure off his wounded side. Leo could not help it; his umber eyes landed on his brother's bandaged injury and yet again he found himself cursing last night.

"I'm keeping my blood circulating," he replied. "I can't bring myself to do katas right now."

"Yeah, right," Mikey replied, grimacing. "You're probably thinking about how you can blame Nia for all of this, aren't you?"

Leo frowned and faced his brother on the other side of the lab. "She _is_ the cause for all of this, Michelangelo. That's a fact I don't need to emphasize _or_ make up."

"Don't do that, Leo. Don't put that kind of pressure on her." In an instant, Mikey's blue eyes narrowed, his voice growing gruff with an anger that had become commonplace in the latest month. "We _still_ don't know what really happened with Splinter. Besides, she didn't stab me. A Purple Dragon thug did. She had nothing to with that."

"If you hadn't been out looking for her then you never would have been put in that situation to begin with." Leonardo crossed his arms, daring the youngest brother to say otherwise.

"Are you even _listening_ to yourself?" Disbelief cracked the orange-banded ninja's voice as he shook his head lightly. "We aim to keep people safe, always have. If I hadn't of been there, those girls could have been shot. I saved them and I don't regret that decision, even with this pain in my side. If it had been you, you would have done the same."

True, but Leonardo would not admit that.

"Leo, Nia made a poor choice in leaving the Lair," continued Mikey in a softer tone. "But it wasn't without reason. That aside, we're all guilty of doing dumb things. Especially Raph. Can't you at least take that into account in your judgment? She's just scared."

"She _been_ scared since the day we met!" the leader instantly retorted. In seconds, he conquered the few steps necessary to stand before his sibling then flashed a mild glare. "That doesn't excuse her from anything! All she does is stick her head in the sand and hope her troubles will just go away. She's disillusioned. If she really wants help then she needs to change!"

"Forcing her head out of the sand won't change her!" countered Mikey with an icy glare. "If you and Raph keep pulling her by the neck then she'll just want to dig her head further into the ground. You say _my_ baggage is blinding me? The way I see it, it's _you two_ who are blinded. I agree that she needs to conquer her fears, but those changes have to come from within. _She_ has to be the one to take her head out of the sand."

"Do you honestly think we have time for that?" Leo's glare intensified, though he attempted to rein it in when his brother's expression blanched.

"What's gotten into you, Leo?" asked Mikey after a long pause. "I get Raph because he's Raph, but…this isn't like you. Even with Splinter's situation aside, you aren't treating Nia like person; you're treating her like a—a goal." Here, the younger mutant scoffed as if to keep himself from crying. "You're both viewing this situation all wrong. Even _Casey_ has a better grasp on it. Haven't you stopped once to think that we may be making another good, life-time friend? That's rare in this city, so we should take the opportunity when we can. We have the time we need. I mean, no one knows she's with us. Everything's fine so long as she stays here."

"Obviously not _everything_ is fine." For a moment Leonardo's cool vision drifted to the cot Splinter rested on before resettling on a groaning Michelangelo "What about April? _She's_ not safe. She can't even go back to her own store."

"You and Raph have kept tabs on it since she and Casey left for the farmhouse, right? If we keep doing so for a little while longer, I'm sure she can go back. If needs be, she can stay here for a bit too, but I'm sure she and Casey got this handled. Really, Leo, you can't just—"

"Woah, woah, did we come at a bad time?" A Brooklyn voice silenced both ninjas, so Leonardo focused his attention on the group of newcomers pouring into the lab like a small flood. Casey (who had spoken) traveled to a chair by Michelangelo's side. April took the seat next to him, and Donatello opted to lean against a rusting steel table housing a few current projects. Raphael could be spotted leaning as well, against the room's brick door jam, which left only one person unaccounted for.

Leo sparred April a glance. She nodded to him, seeming to have understood, and within moments a black-haired female practically leapt passed Raph. She staggered to the center of the group, but once she looked up she quickly found refuge on the other side of Michelangelo in order to avoid such attention. Leonardo noted she still wore her same clothes from last night and heavy bags darkened her eyes, which had him questioning whether or not she even slept.

"So, the prodigal daughter returns." Raphael was the first to comment.

"Alright, t'at's enough outta ya, Raph." Apparently, the comment was not Casey approved.

"What happened to her arm?" asked Leonardo stiffly. He studied the fresh bandage that could partially be seen from beneath Nia's rolled up sleeve.

"She got shot," Donatello answered plainly. His tone hinted that he was frowning. "You didn't notice the giant cloth tied around her arm last night?"

The Jonin shook his head. "I was concentrated on Mikey."

"Oh, Jeeze," Mikey said with a light snort. "She told us the story last night on the way back to the Lair. In case you blocked that out too and for the sake of those who were told to _wait_ for an explanation, Nia also had a run in with the Purple Dragons last night. Apparently, they have been hired by a guy called, uh…What was his name again, Nia?"

Nia kept her head down as she replied. "They said his name was M—Mister Tall."

"Right. I guess since April sent Nia here, the mystery scientist had lost his lead and needed the Purple Dragons to be his eyes around the city."

"Mister Tall sounds like an alias, t'ough," Casey noted grimly.

"Yeah," April added, "you don't exactly use your real name when bribing a crime boss, Casey."

"How'd ya get away?" injected Raphael.

Nia refused to lift her chin, but she glanced towards the mutant in the doorway. "I—I, uh…"

"Some chick saved her," Mikey answered. He grinned slightly. "She didn't give a name, but the way Nia described her, she sounds pretty badass."

"Dun't answer questions for her, Mikey," the hothead snapped. "She's a big girl. Let her answer t'em herself."

"Well, maybe she would want to if you didn't _eye_ her like that, _Raph_."

"I haven't done anyt'in' to her."

"Yeah, that includes being nice."

"Really?" Raphael crossed his arms, eyeing the human who avoided his gaze. "Let's see. Both ya and Master Splinter have been nice to her, and look where _t'at_ landed ya." Nia sucked in an audible sharp breath then and Leonardo sensed a tremendous growth of negativity in Michelangelo's chi.

"Alright, that's enough," interjected April before the youngest brother rose from his seat. "We're not here for this. We just want answers."

A moment of tense silence followed the redhead's sigh. Leonardo glanced over the room several times to see who would speak first, though the first one to do so was the least likely of them all.

"My sons. What has come about?"

Leo dashed to Splinter's bedside in an instant. Without hesitation, he reached for the old rat's outstretched hand and held it with painstaking care, as if frightened he would break his father at any given moment.

"Otōsan! Daijobou? Matte, don't try to get up just yet." The Jonin's words went unheeded, though. Determination propped the master into a seated position, and he took a few moments to survey the room with his dark eyes. Leonardo heard the scraping of a wooden chair against concrete then the soft patter of bare feet. He turned his head in time to see Nia round Splinter's right side, opposite of him. She ducked her head, although Leo had already spotted tears trailing down her flushed face.

"I—I'm sorry," she cried softly, voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Mister Splinter. I didn't—I mean—I…I'm—"

"Child," Splinter lifted Nia's chin with a slightly shaking paw, "I sense you meant no harm."

Leonardo's fingers twitched until they formed a tight fist, the only proof of the anger he felt brewing inside his chest as Splinter reached for Nia's hand.

'_Never meant harm? What is he talking about? How could he dismiss what had happened so easily? It's not like he had been slapped or tripped on the carpet. He had been knocked unconscious! Thrown! He's still writhing into his stomach, so obviously the pain has not left his body. After all that, how can he act as if she were no threat to our clan?_'

"I'm glad you're awake, Sensei"—Leonardo faced Michelangelo when he spoke—"Really. But I have to know. What exactly happened?" Mikey shifted in his seat to get a better view of the duo, cringing while he did so.

Splinter glanced first at Nia then at his youngest son. "I believe only Anders-san can provide an answer to that question, Michelangelo, for I am as equally confused."

And so, the entire group turned to Nia. Leo watched warily as the woman recoiled into herself. Her grip on Splinter tightened like a child seeking comfort and she drew a deep breath before speaking.

"I…I can't say what happened either…"

"What do ya mean 'ya can't say'?" Raphael snapped.

"I mean," she paused, "I—I don't know."

"Oh, _hell_, ya've gotta be kiddin' me!" The red-banded mutant pushed himself off the doorframe in a fit of fury and stormed towards Nia with a look of pure frustration contorting his features. "All t'is time, and_ t'is_ is the explanation we get?"

The raven-haired woman shied further into Splinter's embrace, a sight which churned Leo's stomach. "R—really," she said, her vision set on the master's wool blanket. "It's—it's just something that can't be explained. I've never been able to…and neither has my…my father."

Raph's glare never faltered, even at the tinge of pain evident in Nia's voice. "Ya could try to explain it at least. Why are ya here ot'erwise?"

"_Raphael_." The turtle drew his attention to April, who frowned with as much disapproval as her voice portrayed. "Please, back off. You're _not_ helping."

A growl later, the hothead was standing next to Leonardo, fierce eyes still narrowed. Nia visibly calmed down, but avoided eye contact with the sai master.

"The best I can describe it as is a…feeling," she continued.

"Feeling?" questioned Donatello.

The young woman nodded. "Yes, almost like a yearning or maybe an instinct. A force? I—I can't quite say. But whatever it is, it just…flares up sometimes. And until recently…the result had always been small in scale."

"What do you mean by a flare up?" The genius's tone adopted a scholar-like intrigue as he watched Nia.

"Just…weird stuff like shorting out phones, lights, or TVs. One time…our city block lost power…I think because of me. I—I don't know what it is, but…it's effected me for as long as I remember. A—animals are, uh, particularly sensitive to it."

"Is that why Klunk's been so reclusive lately?" Mikey half mumbled.

Nia sighed loudly. "Th—there have also been incidents like the one with Splinter before. Only two, though…"

"Hey, Nia?" asked Michelangelo, timid. He gained the human's gaze then sent her a kind almost sorrowful smile. "Is…is that what happened when I first met you? Did you have a…an episode?"

After a long, hard gulp Nia nodded then returned her attention to the grip she kept on Splinter. "I—I guess it's only fair to finally tell you," she started softly. "I, uh, I had been walking home that night from the library. D—daddy was pulling a late night grading papers and Mama was at a, uh—uh, meeting for her company. I—I didn't call either of them to pick me up like they usually do. I wanted to walk because…the night felt good." Paused, she drew in a deep breath. "When I passed th—the new apartment complex that they're building near Lenox Hill, I saw…I saw someone being mugged…and beat by a couple of kids that I recognized from my father's class. They—they saw me and I utterly panicked. Really, it's mostly…hazy. I remember running through Central Park and tripping. A lot. One of them…kept up with me, though. He's the one who, uh…who…"

"Ya hurt," Raphael finished quite assuredly. His words were not as contemptuous as they had been several minutes ago, and Nia sighed as he shifted his weight.

"Yes," she answered in a whisper. "He struggled with me, and that—thing inside me flared. I was…I was so freaked. I left him there and—and bumped into a construction truck just outside the park. I lost my balance then fell down a manhole that they were in the middle of servicing. I—I—I panicked down there, honestly. I…I couldn't find a way back out, though…I'm sure I passed plenty of ladders. I have no idea how long I was down there when Mikey found me…"

"Why…why didn't you tell us this before?" April's steady gaze landed on Nia, who graced her with only a glance.

"Because I…don't like to think about it much. I…try to block it out."

"So instead of facin' yer problems, ya try to ignore t'em all toget'er?," asked Raph with a scoff. Teal eyes fell on Raphael then just as quick looked away.

"Yes," the black-haired woman grumbled. "I'm just… tired. I've had plenty of time to confront this 'issue'. Da—daddy spent a lot of his free time trying to help me, but I gave up hope of finding a cure long ago. If there's such a thing for whatever this is. It—It's something that can't even be identified. How can you _face_ something that can't even be _found_?" Raphael kept silent under Nia's unimpressive glare.

"So," Don added after a silent moment, "your father, Gavin, he's already tested you for everything? Blood work? MRIs? CATs?"

Nia nodded towards Donatello, shuddering slightly. "Everything that could possibly be tested for…It's all normal."

"Then it's something that can't be easily detected." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps it's a power?"

"A…power?" questioned Nia, painfully unsure.

Mikey perked up. "You mean like a super hero? Oh, man, that would be so cool, Nia!"

Nia, however, did not seem to share her friend's enthusiasm. "I don't think so."

The genius gave a quick laugh. "Don't tell me you think of the idea as impossible. I mean…look at who you're talking to." He gestured to himself then to his family. "Believe me, my brothers and I have seen a lot in our lives, stuff people couldn't even begin to fathom."

"It doesn't matter," Nia countered dryly. "Powers are often used as tools. This…I can't control it, and I don't think it's anything that's meant to be controlled."

"Fine. But if not a power then…what?"

"I already told you, I—I don't know." The young woman's voice hitched with emotion. "It's a feeling. An emptiness. A desire. All in one. Th—there aren't any words to describe it accurately, don't you _understand_ that?"

Nia's breathes were growing more shallow with each passing second. Whether this was done in fear or pain Leonardo could not say. A jolt coursed throughout the room, like waves of static electricity that would have stood up every hair on Leo's body if he had any. Soft pops came from the digital trinkets Donatello kept in his lab as the lights momentarily flickered, and soon they were sizzling with an inward heat that caused them to smoke and smell of burnt rubber. Leonardo could do nothing more than freeze, stunned by such an odd sensation. After a few deep breaths by Nia, the jolt simply vanished.

"Alright…what was that?" Mikey looked to the human for an answer.

"I'll say it again…I don't know," Nia replied in a small voice.

"Anders-san." Splinter gained the young woman's attention. "Whatever it is that plagues you, I believe…it is connected to your emotional state. Perhaps if you explored it—"

"No!" The pale woman instantly rose from her position at the rat's bedside, shaking her head of long hair adamantly while backing away. "No! No! No! No!" she cried. "I don't _want_ to explore it anymore! I'm done with it. I'm done with tests. I'm done with theories. I'm done with the doctors. I'm done with the headaches. I just want it all _to go away_! I want to _forget_ it!" Leonardo watched carefully as Nia's focus drop to the floor, far from anyone's face. She wrapped her arms around her body, continuing softly through her trembling lips. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused, I _really_ am. But I…I _refuse_ to believe that this must a part of me."

"Don't say that, dudette!" Michelangelo grinned in spite of the obvious disappointment in his voice. "It can't be all bad. Whatever this…thing is, it's probably an extension of yourself. How can you reject that?"

Nia gave a small sigh. "Because it just causes me pain…I, uh, I'm actually still tired, so…I—I'm going to lay down for a while, O.K.?" Mikey frowned at having been ignored, leaving April to nod her approval at the young woman. In turn, Nia nodded then headed for the doorway. There, she paused before she left completely, her body twisting to meet only Splinter's gaze.

"I really am sorry," she said.

"Your apology has been accepted, Anders-san," Splinter replied kindly. It seemed that was all she needed to hear. Without so much as a grin, she left the group and moments afterwards Donatello sighed out loud.

"Alright, everybody, out, out, out," he exclaimed. "Leo, please take Master Splinter to his bed; I need my working space."

"Jeeze, Don," Raph cried while being pushed to the door. "What's the rush?"

"You see," Donny paused, "I have to research something."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hum. We had sensible Casey for a moment. He ruined that image quickly. ROFL. Now you all know a bit more about Nia's past and why she's so evasive when it comes to scientists. XD Still so much tension between everyone. Don't worry, the next two chapters will takes care of that. Fufu. Until next time!


	18. Compassion

**Author's Note: **Well, here's the next chapter. Back to back to make up for my long delay. XD Anyways. Duckie mentioned it being annoying that Leo and Raph are being...Leo and Raph (ROFL), but that won't last for much longer! ...No, I don't mean that they get a personality change. I'll leave that for the crack fanfiction. What I DO mean is that resolves have finally come, so. Enjoy! :D  
**Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thank.

* * *

**Chapter 18 - ****Compassion**

Splinter sat upright in bed, a light blanket draped over his lap to keep the slight cold of his room at bay. He inhaled slowly so he could maintain control over his words, for, while he loved his eldest son very much, he had limits when being fussed over.

"Are you sure, Sensei?"

"Yes, Leonardo. I am quite certain."

"But—"

"Leonardo"—the rat held up a paw to the mutant beside his futon—"I am well enough. There is no need for such concerns any longer. A two day's rest was all I required. I simply needed to regain my energy."

"How can you take the matter so lightly, Otōsan?" Leonardo questioned, voice strained. "She _threw_ you across the dojo."

Splinter sighed. "Anders-san made no physical contact with me, my son. Aside from that…the act was unintentional."

"Even so" —Leo's umber eyes narrowed— "I was there when it happened. I saw what she did to you—_felt_ it! Sensei, I…I no longer think that keeping Anders-san here is the best idea. I know I've reassured April that we would help, but…"

Within seconds, Leonardo's own thoughts silenced him, so Splinter took a moment to carefully study his pupil, his son. The Jonin barely held onto his control—Splinter would have been able to detect this even if Leo had been able to unclench his fists and relax his strong jaw. The very frustration had eased into his body, tensing his muscles, and after two days of temperance the mutant no longer fought it. Not even careful breathing could hide the pulsing fury that resonated throughout his chi like the chiming of a gong.

"My son," Splinter spoke with firm caution, "I did sense your spirit in the dojo, which is precisely why you ought to accept Anders-san's apology. Even while she hurt me I could sense her regret. She has been sincere in begging forgiveness and we all need to give it to her if we are to move forward."

"Just because she was sincere doesn't mean that she's not a threat, or that I can forgive her," Leonardo muttered quickly. Immediately, he flinched, possibly because he anticipated the disproving stare of his master.

"Be careful in how you think, Leonardo, lest you face the same war as Anders-san. An imbalance rages within her—one of emotions and opinions. She is confused, insecure, and requires guidance to find harmony. Forgiving her will give you _both_ a peace of mind." Splinter frowned when his son did nothing more than shake his head. "Compassion is a virtue, my son, one that should be exercised particularly by the most powerful of warriors."

"I want to forgive her, Otōsan. Honestly. But I just…"

"There is no excuse." Splinter's tone was soft, though the words were reprimanding.

"But she—"

"Kanojo no yurusu! Forgive her, Leonardo." The duo locked eyes at Splinter's comment.

Their gaze lasted no longer than two seconds before Leo sighed in defeat, bowing his head respectfully. "Hai, Sensei."

"Arigatou, my son." Twisting his stiff body to the edge of his futon, Splinter stood on his own accord. He reached down to touch the cheek of Leonardo kneeling on a worn zabuton. The mutant turtle glanced up, but his expression was not as gentle as the rat had hoped it would be.

"Raph and I did as Don asked on Friday morning and left the photo for Mikey to bring up when they were alone," Leo spoke, low. "He asked her about it yesterday. She claimed she didn't know Stockman's name, let alone if he had any kind of relation with her father. Her evasiveness is what's going to eternally impede our investigation and it's just…so frustrating."

"Fear prevents many from accomplishing what ought to be done, my son. Perhaps you simply need to show Anders-san a glimpse of your own strength and courage. With that, perhaps she will be inspired to open up."

Leonardo sighed again, this time with palpable traces of annoyance. "I'm just concerned for our clan," he said softly.

A light paw rested on the shoulder of Leonardo as a sign of both reassurance and love. "As am I, Leonardo. As am I…"

* * *

"Man, she really did a number on these things," Donatello commented to himself grimly. He surveyed the rectangular device in his hands once again then sighed. Though the contraption had held little purpose, Donatello would have been more content if its circuits had not been fried. Getting a hold of material alone was like mining for diamonds, and unfortunately for him, at least two dozen other projects in his lab were short-circuited as well.

'_Good thing my main computer equipment isn't stationed in here,' he thought. 'I would have gone crazy if I had to build another from scratch…_'

The inventor frowned. Yesterday Nia had apologized for the inconvenience, but regardless of how much Donatello assured her all was forgiven…none of it really was. He had not lied, of course. He could not hold an accident against someone. It was simply the fact that this amount of damage halted any future projects he had planned. Such a dismal reality squeezed his heart in annoyance and prevented him from giving his full pardon.

'_Guess I'm going to have to pull more work shifts if April and I decide to go through with that one plan…_'

"How's it going, Don?"

Donatello placed the device beside a few others on the steel table before him then faced Leonardo, who had spoken. The mechanic saw no need to contain the grimace that overshadowed him like he had done when speaking with Nia, so by the time Leo stood by his side, he released a low groan.

"Not good, Leo" he replied. "All the circuits are fried. _All_ of them! The only thing these are good for now is trash. Recycling. Filler. Crap. I mine as well have handed Mikey a rubber mallet and said 'have at it!'"

"I'm sorry." Leonardo said this, but Donatello knew he held little remorse for anything electronic.

"Yeah, well…since you didn't come in here with orders I take it that your search with Raph and Casey didn't go so well last night."

"No, it didn't," the Jonin replied as he crossed his arms over his plastron. "Hun has obviously gone into hiding. He isn't at any of his usual hangouts, and all the Purple Dragons that Raph and I came across would not tell us a thing. I've never seen them so obstinate before, Donny. Hun must be delivering some stirring speeches recently for these guys to endure so many broken bones for him…"

"How many broken bones exactly?" asked Don carefully, eyeing his eldest brother as he flinched.

"We didn't go far. Casey came to the fine line, but after a certain point it became obvious that they wouldn't talk. So, we came home."

"I see…will you go back out tonight?"

"I don't know." Leo sighed. "Odds are, one of them has to cave, but…it didn't feel right, beating them for answers. It made me sick and I couldn't even explain to Splinter what we did, though I'm sure he knows…"

Frowning, Donatello placed a hand on Leonardo's shoulder to grab the attention the Jonin had let slip. "I know we're desperate," he said softly, "but torturing isn't a part of our code. If they don't talk after intimidation then so be it. Hun can't stay in seclusion forever."

"Yeah, you're right," replied Leonardo. He gave a weak smile as Don's hand fell from his hunched shoulder. "Which brings me to why I'm here in the first place. I want to know when you're finally going to tell us what you and April were brainstorming yesterday. I don't like being left in the dark."

"I know. I know." The mechanic rotated one shoulder and leaned against the metal table. "We only had little breakthroughs that led to even more dead ends. Really, the only active thing we have going is a theory…"

"What kind of theory?"

Don felt his body stiffen. "J—just something. It's all very…tentative."

"Care to share it anyway?" Judging by that stance, Donny sensed his brother's question was everything but.

'_Forgive me, April._'

"Fine," the purple-banded mutant breathed. "It's about Bishop's possible involvement." Don watched Leo immediately tense at the madman's name. "Now, granted that the photo you and Raph found at Nia's old apartment…isn't much proof, I think it does in fact connect Gavin with Bishop. While Gavin and Stockman have no personal recorded affiliation, Stockman had been involved a bit with Erudio Laboratories while he was establishing Stocktronics. I just read that in an old paper Stockman had self-published. Anyway, if he…discovered some secrets of Gavin's research there, it could have eventually been brought up to Bishop. I'm honestly surprised there have been any more connections between Erudio Laboratories and the E.P.F., all things considering." Here, the Jonin raised an eye ridge in silence, though Don had not expected him to understand what he meant anyway. "I mentioned this to you before, Erudio's a company that's famous for its cytologists, scientists of genes—cells."

"Right," grumbled Leo, slow, "that sounds like it would interest Bishop."

"Exactly," Donatello replied, sighing. "Uh, we couldn't find any useful information on their servers about past employees, but while Nia was missing, April handed me a chart that she had…recovered from Gavin's email this past week. It's dated during the time that Erudio employed him."

"I'm not following what you mean, Donny. How can a chart be so important?"

"Because it's a print out of some intriguing DNA."

"Intriguing how?"

"You see…I showed it to a source for an opinion, and they agreed with me. While parts of the DNA _are_ human, other parts…clearly aren't."

"Are" —Leo paused— "Are you saying the sample is…mutant blood?"

Don shrugged. "It's a mix, that's for sure. And it has no traces of Mutagen, in case you were wondering. Perhaps Gavin once tampered in the field of genetic mutation. That's my theory. Now, whose blood the sample belongs to, we can only guess. For all we know it isn't even real. There's no subject name on the paper. Odds are high it could be a model."

"So," Leonardo started carefully, "why do I get the feeling then that you and April believe you already know _who_ it belongs to."

Biting his lower mouth, Donatello pushed himself from where he leaned and began pacing the warm floor of his lab so he would not have to face the intense stare of his older sibling. "All we have are just theories, Leo. It—it's so hard to say anything for sure, and we don't want to dish out any premature accusations. What April and I can confirm is that Gavin buried himself in his work obsessively. He was very adamant about his research, research that has probably ended up in Bishop's hands."

"And aside from that one graph, we have no idea what his research was about?"

"No," answered Don sorely. "After she shared that chat with me, April and I decided to hack further into the company's database. They have servers beyond serves, yet any trace of Gavin's work has been erased. Nothing is left other than a brief mention that he once worked there."

"Sounds like a cover-up to me," Leo commented with a scoff. "It's possible Bishop could have taken what he wanted then erased the rest."

"Yeah…unfortunately, he has that kind of influence on things."

"Kuso," the Jonin spat. A metallic bang echoed through the Lab, startling Don to a stop. "I _hate_ when the bad guys are steps ahead of us."

"Me too, Leo," Donatello replied. His eyes fell from his brother's scowl to the concrete ground. "Nia may claim she knows little about Gavin's work, but in light of recent events…her—nature, her fierce resistance against research, Gavin's involvement with cytology…I think she _does_ know something about it. She just—doesn't want to acknowledge it. Like she told us, she just wants to forget. If we're ever going to find out about his project and possibly this chart…we're going to have to convince Nia that evading is no longer an option."

"Right," Leonardo scoffed, "I doubt that day will ever come…"

* * *

Time had passed rather quickly for Leonardo. Before he knew it, night had fallen and everyone had retired to their rooms. Well, save for one person: himself. Usually, the Jonin would have followed suite so he could meditate then sleep. However, meditation had done him little good today—especially since his talks with Splinter and Donatello—and when his mind was uneasy he could never sleep. He reasoned that it would be best if he did something that involved less contemplating, so for the past two hours he had been mindlessly completing chores, what little there were. After placing the last dry dish in a tall cupboard, Leonardo stepped back with a nod.

'_Well, that wraps up…everything_,' he thought. '_What now? Hum…I…I should probably go check on Mikey, see if he needs anything…Yeah, that's a good idea._'

Without delay Leo crossed the living room, ascended the wide staircase leading to the railed balcony, and began his short journey down the second story hallway. He paused for a moment at the farthest door on the left side then gave it a light knock. When no one answered, he turned the knob to peer inside.

"Mikey?" he called into the dark, his voice soft. He scanned the room for any signs of life, yet the only movement that could be detected was the looping intro of Speed Carts emanating from a small television set at the foot of his little brother's wooden bed frame. Upon closer inspection Leo could spot Mikey's sleeping form reclined on the full mattress on the right wall; a controller clung to his plastron like a lifeline. There was a content smile on his relaxed face, one often given after accomplishing a great goal.

'_The game must have gone well,_' Leo thought.

As he took his first step into the room, autopilot kicked Leonardo's brotherly instincts into drive. He turned off the noisy television then walked towards Mikey's bed so that he could pull the crumpled comforter over his stretched form. When the youngest began mumbling something about having the highest score ever, Leo had to shake his head in amusement. It was a mystery to him how games could be so important.

"Um…"

Leonardo jumped back two steps when a light moan disturbed the room's silence. He instantly ceased up, searching for a cause out of instinct. Through the darkness he spotted Nia sitting in a wooden chair, her slumped body half-leaning on the crook between the wall and Mikey's bed. Her thick locks of black hair fanned around her torso while a dark blanket wrapped her legs like a cocoon.

'_How sloppy of me not to notice._' Leonardo thought with a firm shake of his head. '_Of course, I should have assumed she would be here. But that doesn't excuse my inability to sense her presence…Ugh, I'm really not here today..._'

"No…please…" Nia whispered brokenly, drawing Leo's attention. "Don't..don't…"

Cautious, the mutant tiptoed forward while eyeing the young woman. She flinched, whimpered, and mumbled incoherent things. Leonardo could only deduce she was experiencing a nightmare. To save her from both the discomfort of slumbering in a chair and living a horrible dream Leo gave her shoulder a light shake. At first she remained unresponsive, so he shook her body harder and harder until finally she was pulled out of her unconscious state.

A terrified scream pierced the still room like nails on a chalkboard, and frightful eyes shot open, not once seeing what loomed before them. Leonardo found himself stunned when Nia's arms propelled forward with such a force that it nearly pushed the air right out of his lungs.

"Nia!" the mutant hissed in a hushed toned. "Nia, stop it; it's me! Gah!"

"Give them back!" she cried, slurring. "Give…back…"

Leonardo captured to young woman's flailing arms. "Nia, you'll wake up Mikey. Will you please…!" Leo's yell trailed off into a sigh. When he spoke again, his words were less harsh and more soothing. "Nia, it's O.K. You're here with Mikey and Leo. Nothing's going to hurt you. I…I promise."

For several long moments Nia froze in the Jonin's grip, her expression growing from that of pure terror to grim realization. As her true vision recovered, the flushed human swatted away the strong hands holding her and slid out of her chair with the grace of a newborn giraffe. Falling backwards, she attempted to recover her posture three times before desperation required her to lift her body from the floor by aid of a doorknob. With one hand over her heart and another twisting the drawstring of her gray sweatpants, she tried to speak. Her words, however, were no more graceful than her attempt to stand.

"Nia, it—it's alright," Leonardo said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. "You're fine." The female flinched as Leo approached her, yet made no motion of answering. "Hey, are you O.K.?" he questioned when he stopped three steps before her. She nodded her head with fervor, as if a quick response would mean the ninja's quick departure. "Are…are you sure?" Again, she nodded, though this time she hesitated before answering.

"I…I didn't bother Mikey, did I?" she asked, voice low.

Leo glanced over his shoulder. "No. Guess he must be real tired."

"H—He had been playing that game for fourteen hours straight."

"_Fourteen_?" The blue-banded mutant grimaced as he returned his attention to Nia.

"Y—yeah." Nia giggled, though half-hearted. "He had me time him since I got up this morning. He…he said something about setting a new record."

"Yeah, maybe for the fastest way to ruin your vision."

"He doesn't seem to mind…"

"I guess…" Gradually, Leonardo's eyes adverted from the woman. He sensed Nia do likewise. Together they stood in a long, awkward silence until Nia sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Excuse me?" replied Leo, automatic.

Nia drew her eyes to the terrapin's face. "I said I'm sorry," she repeated, wrapping her arms around her body. "F—for everything. I never meant for anyone to get hurt…"

There was genuine remorse in those words that Leonardo could neither deny nor ignore. Even so, his heart simply could not—would not—let her sincerity blind him to the truth like it did with so many others around him. How could Mikey so easily disregard the danger she presented? Why was Don still so willing to work with her even after she destroyed years of experiments? Even Splinter and April were acting as if the young woman's recently discovered 'feeling' posed no further threat to them. Had his family gone mad?

Leonardo growled at his own thoughts—a deep and dangerous sound that caused Nia to back up against the brick wall behind her.

"M—mister Leonardo?" she questioned softly.

Leo, however, could not respond to even that simple addressing. Anger had begun bubbling within his blood, just like it had done when he and Splinter spoke that morning. Though he tried tempering it with reason, the feeling refused to decrease in intensity to the point where the mutant needed to exit the room before things got out of hand.

He knew Nia had not done anything with deliberate disdain. Beneath her poor choices and mounds of fear, he knew that. So why then did he feel such resentment?

"Mister Leonardo!" The Jonin did not bother turning around because he knew the woman had followed him down the hall. He stopped only when he reached the balcony, and even then he allowed for nothing more than his carapace to be seen by her.

"Listen, Answers-san—"

"Pl—please," interjected Nia, her soft tone filled with desperation. "I've said I'm sorry, O.K.? I've said it so many times, so _why_ won't you believe me?"

"It's not that I don't believe you," Leo replied, his six fingers curling into tight fists. "It's just…It's complicated,"

"No! No! No!" The human's voice cracked at her mild scream. "Please. I—I can't stand the looks anymore. Not from you, not from Mister Raphael. They—they hurt my chest. They hurt my head. I…I'm trying my hardest…h—honestly, I am, but I…"

'_Her hardest?_' The Jonin's eyes narrowed at his thought.

"That's a _lie_, Anders-san," Leonardo hissed through clenched teeth, "you aren't. If you were _really_ trying, you wouldn't be as selfish as you have been—making everyone one else around you suffer because of things _you_ don't want to face. That's not working as a team. That's not helping. That's cowardice." Behind him he could hear a light sniffle.

"This…this is hard for me, and I can't understand why you won't—"

"Won't what? Forgive you?" Now, the mutant twisted. Every ounce of his careful restraint dried up the moment he locked eyes on the crying human and he did not fight to regain it. "You want to know why?" he questioned, almost mocking. "Because you could have _killed_ my already weakened father! _That's why_! You said yourself that you can't control it, so what's going to _stop_ you from doing it again to someone else?"

There. He admitted it, the underlying truth that had been left to fester in the darkest part of his heart since two days ago. That thought scared him. It scared him so bad he wanted to cry. And while it was a relief to release such a burden from his soul, the confession was in fact bitter-sweet. Nia nodded her head numbly, smiling despite the tears flowing down her reddened cheeks. As her breath hitched, Leonardo found himself regretting his loss of control.

"Anders-san…"

"N—No," Nia whispered, "No, I get it. Somehow, I—I knew it…I knew this was the reason. I knew it would be ever since I left the dojo. That's part of why I ran…and I'm sorry. It was an accident."

Leo's sigh was heavy with emotion. "I…I'm sorry too. I know this part of you frightens you. You hadn't meant it, but…"

"He's your father." The black-haired female wiped her tears with the sleeve of her over-sized sweater, though they were quickly replaced. "It's understandable. I—I know without good reason it would—would be hard for me to forgive anyone who hurt my family…"

'_That's right, I forgot that her family…_' Leonardo sighed again.

"Um, I—I'm going to go back to bed."

"Yeah," Leo responded stiffly. "Sure. You can go down first."

The pale woman shook her head of long, unruly locks and began rubbing her arms. "That's O.K. I…I can go back to sleep in Mikey's room. It'll be better anyways, since I can help him if he needs anything."

"That may be best. Um…thank you." His gratitude came out more awkward than intended, but Nia smiled all the same.

"Well…night," she said. "Thank you for…forgiving me." Without waiting for a reply, the human turned heel and practically ran back to Michelangelo's room. When the door shut with a soft 'click', a small grin worked its way across Leo's mouth, for it felt like a deep burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Listen to your father, Leo; the guy knows what he's talking about. Seriously. B( So, Leo and Nia are finally on the path of recovery. Maybe now they can HAVE a friendship. Huzzah! This leaves only one turtle to sort things out with. Guess who will be the center of next chapter. Hohoho!


	19. Understanding

**Author's Note:** Hey, yall. I've been trying to post this for a while. It seems FF has been having a few errors...Anyways. Here is the final resolve chapter. LE GASP! I hope it does not disappoint. :) Guest, whoever you are, valued reader, I am happy to be your lifeline, though such a delicate connection may falter a bit from time to time with the rough seas ahead. Feather. I'm SOOO glad my story is something you look forward to. That makes me very happy! To my other readers, don't forget to leave a review here and there. I love to know what you liked or even disliked about the story, so long as you can tell me how I could make it better, haha. Your words are what keep me pumped to post more, so. ENJOY!**  
****Disclaimer: **TMNT belong to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 19 - ****Understanding**

Raphael's intimidating stare never once wavered. It was kept square on Nia's flushed face like a missile locking onto a target.

"It ain't happenin'," he said firmly, toned arms crossed.

Beside the Lair's living room couch Nia shifted so her hip leaned against its back. "You…don't understand," she replied softly. "I _have_ to…"

"Why? So ya can go and get the clan into even _more_ trouble?" The mutant huffed and rolled his eyes. "I dun't t'ink so."

"T—there won't be trouble." The woman tried to smile yet failed. "R—really. I just—"

"Look, I'm playin' nice for Mikey's sake, so ya better just drop t'is now before I bring up some points ya really ain't gunna like."

"But I—"

"No."

"But—"

"What part of 'no' dun't ya under—?"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Leonardo's authoritative voice cut off his brother's question and reluctantly gained the former's attention.

From his peripheral vision, Raphael watched his older sibling cross the living room from Donatello's lab. "Anders wants to go topside," he answered once the blue-banded ninja reached his side. "She says it's 'stuffy' down here." Immediately, Leo's focus snapped to Nia. But rather than give a disproving glare as had been expected, the leader's eye ridges knitted together in obvious worry.

"Have you forgotten your last trip?" the Jonin asked after a short pause. "I hope not since it was only four days ago."

"I didn't forget," Nia answered hurriedly. There was a trembling whine to her voice as she shifted her weight again.

"Good," countered Leo with a tired sigh. "Then you know you can't."

"P—please," she continued, "I don't plan to wander. I'll just climb the fire escape of whatever building the first manhole cover leads me to and stay on its roof. I just…I need to be outside, in the open…"

"I'm sorry, Nia," spoke Leo calmly. "It's too risky. Exposing yourself—even in the least bit—would not be the wisest idea." Something happened within the split second Leonardo ceased speaking: a sudden switch. The soft glint within Nia's teal eyes flared into an unexpected fire that hardened her features like cold stone and sent tingles through the room.

"I _can't_ do that," she spat, soft yet vicious. "I _can't_ stay down here looking at walls all day. It's painful and driving me crazy, no matter how much I try to meditate. I have to get out. _Now_. I have to before…" Abruptly, Nia paused, and just as quick as the switch flicked on, it flicked off—tingle and all. Her vision fell to the side, her voice now a whisper. "Please…even if it's for half an hour, I have to see the sky. I have to…"

In the woman's new silence Leonardo stared blankly, apparently at a loss for words. Raphael himself was also speechless, although—unlike his brother, who remained flabbergasted—he had to fight back an amused smirk in his shock.

'_So, little Miss Temperance does have a breakin' point…_'

"Let the child go, Leonardo." This elderly voice sailed from the direction of Splinter's bedroom, a tender but definite command. Raphael drew his attention to his master as the stealthy rat situated himself between Leo and Nia before anyone sensed him enter the room.

Leonardo frowned. "But, Sensei, the Purple Dragons are still—"

"As true as that may be, if we keep Anders-san here we are guaranteeing a disaster rather than risking one." Splinter gave Leo a stern look, a knowing look. In the end Leonardo nodded his reluctant compliance, but just as Nia was about to voice her thanks, Splinter held up a paw for silence. "I do, however, request you take one of my sons with you, Anders-san. For safety." Though he said 'request', everyone knew it was a requirement, even Nia. She faulted, obviously taken off guard, and proceeded to bite her lower lip.

"Che, w'ich onna us are ya gunna assign t'at lovely duty?" Raph grumbled without thought.

"You, my son."

Everyone froze. Three sets of eyes landed on the red-banded mutant, whose eye ridges creased deeply.

"I ain't no babysitter," he retorted. "Get onna the ot'ers to do it."

"Raphael," Splinter's voice was just as resolute as his stare, "it is _impolite_ to ignore the request of a young woman."

Raphael knew what would happen should he lock eyes with his father, yet he found himself doing so regardless. Within five seconds, he had succumbed to the will of those penetrating black orbs and he growled while grudgingly nodding towards Nia. After a quick spin on his heel, he stormed out of the Lair much like a stampeding boar, leaving the human to follow in silence. Her short strides barely harmonized with his through the vast waterways, though not due to length. Certainly an Olympian would have difficulty keeping par with such drive, and he lacked the decency to care right then.

By the time a manhole cover had been chosen, the tapping of Nia's footsteps had developed into a jog. Raphael promptly climbed the present ladder then flipped the weighted metal above as if it were nothing more than a dinner plate. When he proceeded to the surface he crouched low, peering down at Nia from above. There, his hand hesitated a moment before complying with his father's wishes to escort the human from the manhole up a fire escape to the flat roof of a dingy apartment building.

"Ya get half an hour," grumbled Raphael the moment his bare feet crunched against the layer of loose gravel that filled the roof's inner lip. "No more. Got it?"

Nia nodded without a word, without turning around to give her escort notice. She meandered to the building's foot-thick ledge and fearlessly perched herself there, which left Raphael with nothing more to do than stand still just a few yards away.

Several minutes passed like that, quiet, motionless…nerve-wracking. Raph had told Michelangelo in the past that he preferred silence. That had been a lie. Really, the hothead could not stand it, especially when the silence was less than comfortable. Like now.

'_T'is is stupid_,' the mutant thought grimly. '_Why do I gotta be up here wit' her? If t'is is supposed to be a test of my patience or some crap, I swear I'll…I'll..._' Raph released a defeated sigh, knowing full-well he could do little in retaliation against his own father. '_Sure, Mikey couldn't come because he's still on bed rest, but why didn't Splinter pick Donny instead? Hell, even Leo seems less tense around her now for some reason. I'm, like, the worst turtle to pick. T'ere are so many things about the damn chick t'at make my stomach twist in knots and I swear she's…she's scared of me…_'

Why did that thought weigh heavy on his chest? She would not be the first. Plenty of people in New York City were scared of him, after all. When it came to criminals, he actually liked that fact since it made him feel powerful. Even so, Nia was no criminal, and while Raphael wanted to pretend otherwise…he did want to help. He needed to help. Perhaps that was why. He intimidated her even though that had never been his full intent.

'_It ain't my fault the girl's a coward. I've done not'in' to her except demand answers. If she had any real backbone, she would be upfront, no matter how painful the subject is. Yet she dun't seem interested in t'at. She just sits like an infuriatin' lump on our couch and takes up oxygen while we try to figure out t'ings for her. How is t'at fair or helpful?_' Raphael spared a quick glance at the impassive female that recoiled into her large sweatshirt then frowned deeply. '_I dun't understand her one bit. Not'in' she does makes any sense and the moment I try to figure her out, I get Mikey and Splinter breat'in' down my neck. Just trust her, Mikey says. T'at dumbass. How can I trust someone who doesn't even seem to wanna trust in the first place? Shit, she had even hurt our own fat'er and I'm supposed to accept her? Just like t'at?_'

Gradually, Raph's thick fingers curled into powerful fists. The mutant had not realized they had done so until his amber gaze found its way to his left side, and by that point, he could feel his teeth grind with an overwhelming annoyance. He found himself snorting then facing the woman before his conscious had a chance to catch up with his impulses.

"Why the hell do ya do t'at?" he questioned suddenly. His voice caught Nia's attention in an instant, and he barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the startled look she replied with. "It's irritates the hell outta, ya know?"

"W—what does?" she questioned

"How about we go wit' evert'in'!" Raph's arms moved in emphasis without permission, but, honestly, he did not try reining them in, though they caused Nia to shy away. "I really dun't know where to begin. Splinter aside, we could start wit' yer insistent denial, yer naive approach to problems, or maybe even yer expectant nature! Which would ya like to cover first?"

The woman responded with only a meek shake of her head, her eyes darting around the roof as if Raphael were a hunter and she were a trapped animal in search of an escape route.

"Why can't ya just speak yer mind?" He growled. "In my experience, most women dun't got a problem wit' t'at. What's wrong wit' ya?"

Raph's mind wandered to thoughts of Angel and April, two very opinionated, very independent women. They had been his early models for human females, so dealing with someone so contrary to their personalities made Raph uneasy, uncertain. He hated being uncertain. Unfortunately, not even a long pause proved enough time for Nia to reply. Instead of responding, she slinked off the concrete ledge and curled up alongside it, as if it offered her support. By the time the hothead recollected his attention, she had already ducked her head and pulled her sweater over her drawn up legs.

"Do ya run away from everyt'in'?" Raph asked. "How do ya ever conquer problems in yer life?"

Still, he received no reply—not a twitch, not a glance, not so much as a hitch of breath. It was enough to convince Raphael the woman had been in similar arguments before, if one could count this as an argument. Even Raph felt like he was interrogating her, but he found it necessary. He had suffered through her ridiculous silence for ten days now. He had kept his distance for her sake. He had played nice for the most part. And what had his restraint earned him? Fear. He could not stand the why she would look at him like he were a…

Monster.

No. He was nothing of the sort. He simply sought answers differently than his brothers. Tonight, she would understand that or officially earn a spot on his black list. So, with a steady gaze and newly controlled tongue, the red-banded ninja approached Nia. She stiffened as he neared, of course, but Raph took extra care not to seem threatening by keeping his arms uncrossed and his frown faint.

"Listen," he said, "I'm sorry about yer parents. I'm sorry about yer home. And I'm sorry some whack-job seems to want ya. Believe me when I say my brot'ers and I understand because ya got absolutely _no clue_. T'is has been our life for years, so we know how to handle it. By now ya must be able to gat'er why we dun't…trust humans much. We went on a limb for April—and ya—in t'is case, and I can't help but feel t'at yer ungrateful." Raphael repressed a smirk at Nia's response. It came as a small twitch of the shoulders, which alone proved he was reaching her.

"I—I'm not ungrateful," she muttered.

The mutant bellowed a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, I see. Forgive me. I'm so socially inept t'at I forget grateful people treat ya like a plague and never say t'ank ya for usin' t'eir t'ings. T'at's, uh, t'at's good t'at ya reminded me. T'anks."

"That's not…I don't…" The woman sighed grimly, her attention set on her feet. "Gratefulness has nothing to do with it. I—I've just never been one to…click easily with others."

"Why? Because yer scared about what t'ey'll t'ink about yer little feelin'?"

Nia's fingers gripped her covered knees tighter. "You have more of a right to be leery then—then I do in this matter, I know. But…It's not easy for me, either…"

"Sure, t'at's why ya get along just peachy wit' Mikey, huh?" The human's frown faltered, and Raphael found himself crouching down to her eyesight. "I just dun't get ya," he said frankly. "Do ya honestly believe if ya ignore a problem long enough it will disappear? News flash: life dun't work t'at way. If ya dun't solve yer issues, t'ey're just gunna grow bigger. Believe me."

"There's nothing I can do about my issues," she whispered.

"How would ya know t'at? Ya haven't even tried!" Raph scoffed then glared when he momentarily caught her wavering gaze. "Ya know w'at I t'ink bot'ers me the most about ya?" he continued. "The fact t'at ya dun't fight. Ya dun't strive. Ya dun't search. Ya just run. Even when yer in a corner. Where do ya t'ink yer gunna go? Nowhere, t'at's where. It's—actually, it's painful to watch because ya seem so pathetic." Perhaps he was being cruel, very cruel, yet the words were truth. Judging by the wounded look on Nia's face, she knew this too. "It's unfair to _my_ family for ya to just sit t'ere and expect us to blindly help. We dun't mind helpin'; it's what my bros and I have taken an oath to do. But ya have to help yerself, too. I can't imagine…doin' what ya do. How can ya _not_ be angry? How can ya remain so passive? If _my_ family were taken away from me…" He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

"A—are you saying…you think I didn't care about my parents?" Though soft, Nia's voice obviously held an undertone of offense.

"No," answered Raph. "When ya talked to me about yer nightmare, I could tell how much ya cared for t'em. I'm just sayin' t'at ya ain't lettin' the pain motivate ya. Yer lettin' it _beat_ ya! Ya should be tryin' harder!"

"Will you brothers _stop_ saying that to me; I _am_ trying!" Nia cried while rising to stand at her full height above Raphael's crouched form. The switch Raph had seen earlier sparked in Nia again, her teal eyes regarding the terrapin with such pained anger that he almost questioned who they belonged to. "I'm trying the best I can without losing my sanity! My parents were the _only ones _I could trust with _anything_, and I miss them so bad I can hardly breathe sometimes. I'm terrified about what that scientist wants me for and I feel lost about what direction my life will now take. A person can only withstand some much pain before it's _too_ much, Mister Raphael! I—I'm not strong, I'm not courageous. I'm not like you…or Miss April. Or Mikey. It's just easier to pretend. It's easier to…block, forget."

"Block?" Raphael questioned. "You mentioned t'at on Friday. How does t'at help at all?"

"I—it's nothing." Nia's voice resorted back to its gentleness as she glanced over the horizon. "Let's drop it. It's been about half an hour, right? You made it clear you didn't want to stay out any longer than that." Keeping her vision low, the female turned to leave. Before she got any further than five steps, Raphael captured her upper arm with a definite grip. He forced her to look at him while trying his best to avoid her falling into the loose gravel and frightening her with his scowling features.

"No," he hissed. "I didn't start t'is conversation for it to end like t'is. If I let ya go now we may never come to an understandin'."

Nia's face scrunched up. "Understanding?"

"Yes, understandin'. Look, I'm no good wit' bein'…tactful when speakin' to ot'ers. Maybe t'at's why Mikey gets along better wit' ya t'en I do. But despite what ya may t'ink, I wanna help just as much as my bros do. It's one t'ing we share in common." Raphael released her arm then, just barely confident she would not run, and sighed. "I dun't expect ya to hand yer entire heart over on a silver platter. T'at's the last t'ing I would wanna do in yer case. All I'm askin' for if t'at ya _respect_ my clan. If we ask a question, it's to help ya, so answer honestly and dun't take advantage of us."

In an instant the young woman's eyes flashed again. "I'm not here to take advantage of anyone!"

"T'en prove it!" Raphael cried. "Stop pretendin'! Stop stickin' yer head in the sand! Learn to step up and face life because t'at's what responsible adults are supposed to do! My fat'er taught me t'at; didn't yers?" The mutant did not back down from Nia—not when she mildly glared, not when her body trembled with emotion, not even when her breath grew erratic in unison with the prickling feel that danced across his muscles. Within the following seconds he thought for sure she would leave without a word. She surprised him by standing her ground.

"I've already told you," she whispered sternly, "I'm not strong enough for that."

Snorting, Raphael took a step closer until his face was mere inches from hers. "T'at is piss poor excuse. I t'ink ya _can_ be strong enough…yer just too crippled by fear to act…What would yer parents say to t'at?" A small pit settled in Raph's stomach when Nia's eyes grew wide and her lip trembled, but a deep breath rid him of the discomfort. "April may have mentioned it, but I'll ask again. Do ya really want our help, Anders?"

"I—I have no one else to go to," Nia replied with a frown.

"T'at's _not_ what I asked." Raphael caught her gaze, his face still close, and after a silent moment she nodded slowly.

"I do…I do want help."

"T'en stop runnin'. Work wit' us. Face the problem. Be honest. It's the only way yer gunna get t'rough t'is mess. I can guarantee t'at." The human gave another nod as Raphael took two steps back. They kept their attention on one another, silent, until Nia blinked, drawing her attention to her blue High Tops.

"S—so," she started softly, "is that what you wanted from me this whole time? For me to…to face my fears? Is that why you've been so…?"

"Dun't flatter yerself; it's been a collection of t'ings," muttered Raph in return. "Mostly, t'is is just how I act under, uh, pressure. Yer little attack on Splinter didn't help t'ings. If ya had told us about yer ability-feelin' t'ing earlier t'an he would have known to leave the room."

"It wasn't an attack!" retorted Nia quickly. "I told Mister Leonardo too. It was an accident. I…I had just hoped that I wouldn't have another spell like that so soon…"

"So ya talked wit' Leo? I t'ought he seemed calmer around ya."

"Last night we spoke. H—he accepted my apology finally and we…"

"Also came to an understandin'?"

She nodded. "I—I guess in a way. He was being aggressive to me because of what I had done to Mister Splinter. I told him I knew that and that I was sorry…He apologized as well. After that, he grew less tense. I…don't feel as intimidated by him now."

"Is t'at so?" One of Raph's eye ridges rose. "Well, I guess t'at puts us all on the same page now t'en. I'm also sorry for, uh, directin' my frustration on ya at times. It just drives me crazy bein' stagnant and yer ostrich attitude has really been pissin' me off."

"O—ostrich?" Nia questioned.

"Yeah," answered Raphael smoothly. "Ya know? Ya just hide yerself and wait for trouble to pass."

"Oh..."

The mutant sighed. "The bottom line is t'at it infuriates me to see my family stress over someone who just dun't seem to give a damn."

"But I _do_ care," Nia added, weak.

"Find ways to show it t'en," countered Raph, catching the human's gaze. He kept quiet a moment, staring into her uncertain eyes, and then sighed again. "Look, we outta get back to the Lair before Fearless has a conniption fit. He has t'is t'ing about constantly knowin' where we are and what were doin'. Come on." Raphael turned to lead the way to the fire escape, but Nia called out his name. "Yeah?" he answered, facing her form now ten steps away.

"Do you…really think I can change?"

"Ya dun't need to change," the red-banded terrapin replied evenly. "Ya just gotta grow. Ya gotta take the life lesson t'is situation is t'rowin' at ya and conquer it. I t'ink ya can do t'at."

The smile on the female's face grew a fraction. "Thank you."

"Y—yeah, sure." Raph tore his attention back to the fire escape and cleared his throat. "Hurry up. I t'ink t'is mornin' Mikey said he wanted to watch some scary movies wit' ya or somet'in'."

"Sounds fun," said Nia, walking towards him. "W—will you join us?"

Raphael's hand twitched beneath Nia's as she accepted his help onto the fire escape and he managed a small smirk. "Sure."

* * *

Bishop stood within a fully enclosed cell of concrete and metal. He remained unmoving just beyond a closed iron door, his tanned face void of any emotion. No matter the cost he would not allow the prisoner to know how far he had crawled under the warden's tough skin.

"Do you still not wish to talk?" he questioned casually.

"I…have nothing…to say to you," his prisoner responded softly.

"Even after all this time? Thirteen days is an awful long period to be in a place like this."

"Must be frustrating, huh?"

Bishop sighed at the prisoner's bitter laugh. "I find no enjoyment in doing this. I honestly do not. It sickens me, hurts me, as equally as it does you. Both our pain could stop now if you simply _tell me_ what I need to know."

"…Never."

Never. Oh, how Bishop had grown a heated loathing for that single word. He heard it so often that it haunted his thoughts to his dreams like an obsessive reminder. It resonated in those eyes of stone. It settled in the very crevices of that defiant frown and even tainted that gruff voice, which had grown hoarse over the days. Bishop saw it in everything now and it drove him insane.

"How…is my wife?"

Such an expected question brought a smirk to the E.P.F. leader's lips. "Ah, not knowing has to bring you to the brink of madness. Must be frustrating…_huh_?" The prisoner glared; Bishop knew this even though the man hid in a corner of shadows.

"Is she alive?" he asked, this time more forceful.

"Of course." Bishop grinned. "What a stupid question. If I lose my only leverage over you then who would make you behave?"

A flash of deep red reflected beneath the cell's centered light as the prisoner attempted to charge Bishop; however, a lack of strength in the legs and rooted chains prevented him from going far. He landed on his face at the light's edge, and Bishop gazed at the weakened being with his head still held high.

"My, how far you have fallen," spoke the warden calmly. "Such a shame; you were a bright scientist and full of…promise…but apparently you are also blind." Bishop barely refrained from sighing at the man's harsh growl. "My apologies, I sincerely wish this could all end, but it seems I will have to be back tomorrow as well."

Bishop spun on the heel of his dress shoe and ordered the heavy door opened. Hydraulics hissed as they performed their command, allowing their master to pass over its thick threshold into the stark white hallway beyond. As the slab of metal began closing once more Bishop spoke to the man left behind with a hint of twisted humor.

"Rest well, Mister Anders."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So much in this chapter...Raph's FINALLY let Nia know how he feels (in a way) and it seems to be a good thing for Nia. 3 And that end...How do you like the twist? Heh heh. Until next time, my pretties.


	20. Detective Hugh Reese

**Author's Notes: **Heyo. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Sorry I didn't get to posting this sooner, but some family issues happened then I came down with the flu. I'm recovering now...Duckie, not at all; I love you too, wonderful reviewer! Fox, I look forward to the glorious spam, haha! Also, you make me laugh. A lot. Emotionally constipated Raph. Just ROFL. Anyways, enough of my talk, let's move on to the story!**  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 20 - ****Detective Hugh Reese**

When Casey had said his apartment was nothing more than a rat hole, he had not been giving it enough credit. At all.

The very moment April opened the narrow front door of his apartment on Friday night, she had already begun to dread what she would see. After Casey lead her through the slums of pothead and thug residents, she had half-hoped he was only taking a shortcut. He was not. She had been guided into a grimy looking building that appeared to be on its last leg of life, and before her mind could process reality, she was met with everything Casey's apartment had to offer.

Three of the four walls were nothing more than peeling plaster, the back wall consisting of red bricks hardly meant to keep the place warm. A fully functional kitchen created the living space's back right corner—complete with cracked floor tiles, stacks of dirty dishes, dented appliances, and scuffed counters (if you could count unfinished plywood as counters). Its sister corner towards the door presented what looked to be half a picnic table supported by crossing two-by-fours on its cut side. Unless you consider a partially-eaten sandwich as décor, it remained unadorned.

As if things could not get worse, Casey explained that the enclosed five-by-five area opposing that corner was in fact the bathroom. April had just about choked on the stale air. True to his word from their earlier conversation, the remaining corner harbored a twin-sized bed and a simple nightstand, on which a small television sat. No couch, no rugs, no air fresheners; one window alone seemed to be a treat in this area, as the other above the kitchen sink had been boarded up instead of replaced.

April's first urge had been to scream either in terror or aggravation. She had not been quite sure which would be more suitable. However, she did manage to contain herself somehow. After all, Casey had offered, and this way she would be on hand to help the guys more readily should they need her. Even if she had to fend of cockroaches while she slept.

Casey had told her the place held a sort of charm, but after three days April still failed to see it. Honestly, she had wanted to punish the man for willingly moving into a place like this when he had told her he made decent money. She wanted to tell him he could sleep on the splintered wood floor with the dirt he chose to keep as company. Unfortunately, she had a heart, and that heart could not withstand kicking the man out of his own bed.

So what happened? Casey had gotten what he wanted: they shared the twin bed. The snake enjoyed every minute of it, too, in spite of such a cramped arrangement. Or perhaps that was what he had been looking forward to. She would not put it past him, especially with that sly smirk she remembered from a few days ago.

Now it was Thursday and she had run into another problem.

"Casey…a life of leftover pizza and beer does not a good diet make." Green eyes roamed the refrigerator's sad contents then settled on Casey lazing on the bed.

"Huh?" Casey replied, attention on the television. "Uh, well it's worked for me so far."

April sighed and slammed the pale blue door as hard as possible. "Really, Casey, this is ridiculous. You don't even have any more water bottles!"

"T'ere's a tap."

The redhead grimaced at the man's pointed finger. "I am not willing to put anything that comes out of _that_ sink into my body…"

"Fine," Casey huffed. "Why dun't ya just go shoppin' t'en instead of complainin'?"

"Alright, I will!"

So, grabbing a windbreaker along the way, April left the man to his wrestling and ensured a loud bang of the closing apartment door echoed in Casey's ears. She stomped down the carpeted halls with sneakered feet as if her boyfriend could hear her anger, a scowl on her pretty face.

Honestly. Since when did she become something so easily dismissed? He may have been tired from patrolling with Leonardo and Raphael these past few nights, but that did not give him the right to be so flippant! Did he really expect her to be content with beer and pizza? Beer was not even a real drink! How had he even lived this long? Right, usually she cooked for him.

'_Guess I'll feed the idiot this time, too,_' she thought, shrugging on her jacket. '_I haven't gone outside since Friday because Don and I have been doing research and planning, so this will give me a good chance to stretch my legs and breathe fresh air._'

April shook her head just as she stepped onto the building's entrance staircase made of concrete. September wind rolled past her in a comforting embrace of warm air. It teased the loose hairs that strayed from her bun and caressed the exposed skin of her hands and face to the point where she wished she had snatched a pair of shorts that morning instead of blue jeans.

'_All well, it's better safe than sorry, right?_' she thought while removing her jacket and tying it around her waist instead. '_At least I have a t-shirt on._'

With a smile on her face, the woman began her journey. Being near Korea Town, she decided to shop there and within half an hour she found herself in a rather large grocery store called Rae's Market. She began searching for much-needed ingredients, which took all of another half an hour. By the time she stood in line for checkout, though, she spotted something that could very well dash her good timing.

'_Maybe if I just…duck he'll—_"

"Miss O'Neil?"

Damn. She had been seen. Biting her lip, April turned to the right and managed a fake smile. A dark-skinned man dressed in semi-casual clothes approached her, his familiar honey brown eyes refusing to be led anywhere but the redhead's face.

"Hello, Detective Reese," April said with some difficulty. "What are you doing here?"

The detective's mouth twitched into a grin that showcased a dimple on his left cheek. "Same as you, of course," he replied, voice smooth. "Shopping for dinner. Do you come here often?"

"No, not really," the woman replied. "This is my first time, actually."

"Ah, well, I come here often. My wife loves Asian food."

"Oh, does she?"

"Yes, she's obsessed with it," Hugh answered. "We eat it so often I'm surprised we're not Korean ourselves." April released a snicker along with the man, though hers was far more awkward.

'_Please don't mention Nia. Please don't mention Nia._'

"Where's Nia?" Hugh quickly surveyed the area. "I thought you were in Northampton getting some 'old-fashioned farm air'."

"We were," April spoke with haste. She shifted the basket handles she held from one hand to the other. "We came back just the other day."

"And…failed to notify me." The detective shook his head.

"I'm sorry; it had slipped our minds."

"Well, I'm not on duty right now, so I'm not going to chastise you. However," Hugh's voice lowered, "I would like to see Nia at least."

April quirked an eyebrow before she knew it. "Why do you have such a strong interest in Nia?" she inquired, unable to keep exasperation from her tired voice. Hugh paused a moment, searching her face, making a decision. When his eyes caught her own, he sighed.

"I'll tell you," he whispered almost painfully. "But not here. Bryant Park is seven blocks up the street. Can we sit there and talk?"

"Uh…sure."

Each adult paid for their load then walked in silence to the destined park. The duo settled on a wooden bench in its heart and let a few more moments of silence pass before either disturbed the tranquil scene of late summer botany surrounding them.

"So…why are you so interested in Nia?" April asked this without facing the man since she found the flowers to be a more comforting sight.

"I'm worried about her," answered Hugh.

"I can sense that much." April snorted lightly. "But _why_?"

A long sigh escaped the man. "Because it's the only way I can think to honor Mia."

"Mia?" April's attention snapped to Hugh, her green eyes wide. "You mean Mia Anders? As in Nia's mother?"

Hugh nodded. "One in the same."

"So you knew her?" The question came out as more of an observation.

"Yes. From years ago, actually." Pausing, the man chuckled half-heartedly. "We grew up beside each other. Well, in a way."

"Wow," April breathed. Her vision returned to the potted caladiums ahead. "What do you mean by 'in a way'?"

The detective sucked in a deep breath. "You can say we came from two separate sides of the railroad track, quite literally. The two of us used to live in southern New Hampshire, oh, about thirty-some years ago now. We were born there. Nashua was our city, located in Hillsborough County. I grew up with grunts and she grew up with aristocrats."

"So…you were the Princess and the Pauper?" April could not stop the smirk from forming on her lips.

"Something like that," Hugh replied blandly. "We were around seven or eight when we first met and while I had no qualms with her, she obviously had qualms with me."

"Why? Was she taught not mingle with commoners?" Amusement seeped into her words; however, Hugh's scoff showed no appreciation for it.

"No," he answered, "not commoners. African-Americans."

"Oh…"

"Mia's maiden name was Johnson," continued the man, "and the Johnsons were highly racist people, down to their very bones. Their children were breed with ideas of white supremacy. Back when we were kids, Mia was a leader of her five ritzy friends—all white, of course. She carried on the Johnson tradition with pride, and when her gang met mine in the woods that separated our worlds, she promptly assumed the territory was hers."

"Gutsy."

"I thought it was annoying." The detective chortled. "I was a leader of my own gang as well, which consisted of my little sister and a few of our friends from Poorsville."

"Poorsville?"

"Yeah, that's what they called our neighborhood."

"The children?"

"The adults."

April's lips pursed in disgust. What disrespectful people. She could never tolerate such blatant contempt for another's living standards…unless it was Casey's place.

"Anyways," Hugh sighed, "like good-natured little children, we fought. Dirty. Hard. For years each group tried to outmaneuver the other for an upper-hand. That land we fought over became something more than just a place to build a fort. It became a principle, and neither group would relinquish their chance to conquer it. Personally, I fought to make it a point that we blacks can keep with whites. She fought because she was stubborn and hated losing to anyone."

As Detective Reese delved deeper into his story, an increasing fondness began to thrive in him. April could tell this by the kind reminiscence of his tone and distant look in his eyes. He smiled—a fleeting action which came and went depending on the word spoken.

"We went on like that forever," he added. "But somewhere between middle school and junior high the war became a game. We found we enjoyed outdoing the others, but it was done with a different attitude. By the time we entered into high-school I knew the alarming thing that had happened to me: I had developed a crush on Mia. Yeah, she hated me for my skin color—at least for the first few years then I just became an obstacle—yet that didn't bother me half as much as knowing that the crush would always be one-sided. Or so I thought."

April resituated herself on the uncomfortable bench, eyeing the petals of a mum. "You're one of Mia's ex-boyfriends?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, I am. And for the longest time…I thought I was her soul mate…"

"What…happened?"

"We secretly dated throughout high-school, not because Mia was ashamed of me, but because she didn't want her family to find out yet. Luckily, we didn't attend the same school, so keeping such a thing under wraps was doable. Until graduation passed."

April cringed. She could sense this story would be taking a sour turn.

"We wanted to get married, and both of us agreed we wanted her family's blessing or at least pardon. She had to do some serious convincing to get me into that house, though. What ensued…didn't turn out well at all. Police got involved towards the end. Mia's father disowned her then and there because she continued to stand by my side. I brought her to New York for a fresh start."

Jeeze. How does one response to news like that? That's tough, man? I'm sorry? Nothing that came to mind seemed tactful enough to use as a response, so April sought another approach.

"You two went through so much together it seems. What…drove you apart? You didn't get married."

"No," High said softly, "we didn't. We stayed engaged, but decided to wait for marriage until we were better settled. Mia began attending collage to become a realtor and I found my passion with the N.Y.P.D. We stayed together until we were twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. By that point…I'm ashamed to say I was so wrapped up in my work that I often ignored Mia when I _was_ home and that just couldn't happen with what she wanted."

April cocked her head, attention now set on the detective. "What did she want?"

A haunting emotion overshadowed Hugh's face as he sighed. "Children," he answered after a long pause. "I wasn't ready for them. I didn't want them. But Mia did. Badly. We fought about it constantly and eventually that topic drove a wedge between us."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the redhead, automatic but honest.

Hugh shook his head once. "A part of me thought that, given time, we would eventually find our way back to each other. And we did. Only when we did, she was with Gavin. That man and I, uh…didn't see eye-to-eye. I was the law and he…often times chose to break it."

"Gavin?"

"Ah, didn't know that about him, did you?"

April shrugged her shoulders dramatically. "Know what?"

"Before Mia convinced Gavin to pursue any kind of career, he was a drug dealer."

April could only stare back in disbelief. Gavin? The sophisticated man from her store? The only male she knew who walked with grace? The guy that spoke with a regality that belonged to a king? The one with a developed art taste and appreciation for South American statues? A previous drug dealer?

"You may want to close your mouth, Miss O'Neil. You'll catch a bug or two."

"I—I…I'm just." The woman gawked. "Uh, my mind is boggled,"

"Mine was too for the longest time," commented Hugh with a smile and a laugh. "He was good at what he did, too. There was never enough proof to convict him. He always found scapegoats. Even so, Mia would not let him continue on like that. She peeled him from such a filthy life and gave him another chance when no one else would. She wouldn't give up on him. We didn't talk during that time, though. She kept to Gavin and I kept to my work. I think the last contact I had with her was nearly sixteen years ago when she and Gavin adopted Nia."

"Well it makes sense for you to—wait"—April froze— "Hold it. Wait a minute. Wait." The redhead attempted to control her waving hands, but failed. "_What_ did you just say? Nia's _adopted_?"

Hugh met the woman's stunned face evenly. "Well, they liked to have people think she's their blood daughter, so apparently they achieved that much. After she married Gavin, Mia discovered she couldn't have children. That's why they have Nia."

"I…I…never would have thought…"

"Why would you?" the man asked, half smiling. "I imagine it isn't something they would parade around. Mia sent me a letter the day they took her home. It said that Nia was a very skittish thing who refused to talk. However, Mia had to have her because she felt akin to her somehow. Don't ask me why because that letter described a girl who was the complete opposite of Mia in her youth. With her family complete, I no longer heard from her. Which was good." Within a second Hugh released a controlled sigh then flashed a sad grin. "I had been harping on the things I could have done to keep Mia in my life, and when she severed herself completely I felt…relieved. It was like she freed me from a spell. I continued on with my career and even met my wonderful wife in the following months."

Deflating her breath like a slow-leaking balloon, April slumped against the back of the bench and allowed herself a few minutes to ease her reeling mind. Apparently she had not known the Anders family as well as she thought she did, and the light of this recent news shocked her more than it probably should have. Why? Because it meant that Nia had a biological lineage that few people knew.

'_Perhaps that may even play a role in her weird…feeling. And explain the chart. Gavin may have known about Nia, but didn't tell her because…he didn't want her to know he isn't her real father? That doesn't seem like he knew how to prioritize well. Nia has a right to know…_'

"Mia," Hugh continued to speak after a moment and caught April's gaze, "she had been my first love. Call me a romantic, what you will, but no matter how far we drifted over the past years, she will always own a part of my heart. I…I guess you could say my helping Nia is a form of apology for denying her dream. Mia had wanted so badly to become a mother. That girl had to have been Mia's life, I _know_ it." Frowning, the detective sighed in obvious regret. "If I protect Nia I feel Mia's spirit can rest in peace. Until then, I will continue to support her from the sidelines…And that, Miss O'Neil, is my reason for calling you daily."

"Sometimes twice a day, actually," added April with an amused smirk. "You're a rather persistent man."

"So I've been told on many accounts."

The redhead wished to join in Hugh's light laughter, but instead her thoughts dwelled on his story. '_If he cared so much for Mia then maybe, just maybe, I can recruit his help. It wouldn't hurt to have a police officer backing us up—even if he does borderline harassment sometimes..Here goes nothing_.'

"Uh, Detective Reese? Is it possible I could ask a favor?"

Hugh's smile died ever so slightly as he regarded April, black brows furrowed. "I'm off duty," he replied. "Call me either Mister Reese or Hugh. As for the favor, it would depend on what it is and whether or not you're asking me to complete it as a civilian or a cop."

"O.K., Mister Reese. I'm asking this as a civilian to a cop." April paused a moment to ensure she earned the man's genuine consideration. When he failed to show signs of outright dismissal, she nodded. "The reason I've been so dodgy recently is because…a man, possibly two, has shown a disturbing interest in Nia. One has even gone as far as to chase me onto a train after he revealed he researched my work background and my name. I left my apartment because I felt he had that address as well."

If ever there were a frown evident in every part of a human body, Hugh would be that prime example. "A stalker?" he asked, perhaps unintentional in the dangerousness that strung through his tone.

"I haven't the slightest clue," April replied. "He said he was a scientist, but never gave me a name or any real reason to trust him. However…I feel he's a threat of another kind. When we talked, he sounded absolutely genuine. He believed Nia was in some form of trouble and that he could protect her from another man I have yet to see…_active_ in the mix."

"For all we know he could be that second scientist as well as a great actor. I've seen similar cases before."

"I believed that. Call it a hunch, but I do think there's a second man. I just wish I had a definite identity of the first scientist so I can make further judgments."

"As do I," grumbled Hugh.

April bit her lip. "So…does this mean you can help me?"

"Of course," the man replied without hesitation. "Can you remember the scientist's face at least?"

"Yes. I got a good look at it when he grabbed my arm."

"Alright, if you come to the station we could get a sketch artist to—"

"Actually," April interrupted, "is it possible to keep this low-key between the two of us? I have a feeling that the man is closely watching the police and keeping track of their activity."

"You believe he has the power to bypass police security?"

The redhead frowned at the obvious laughter the detective was keeping at bay. '_He says that like it's never been done…_'

"He's already proven himself capable so far," April responded blandly, "and he's hinted towards the possibility that the second man possess stronger recourses than him."

"What kind of man is this?" Hugh asked, his amusement dying.

"A tall one, almost seven foot, with dark gray eyes and a pale complexion that would shame snow. He looked disheveled, but wore pricey clothes. Eye bags, scraggly hair, and crazy talk aside, he seemed like the type of guy who ought to be accepting a Nobel prize…What?" The man's already intent face had grown more so by the time April finished speaking, to the point where it seemed he was glaring at his own thoughts.

He locked eyes with her. "Was he in his late forties? Narrow faced, hooked nose, and possibly a scar on his neck?"

April blinked once then twice. "Ugh, I can't confirm the scar, but…Do you know who he might be? He isn't a criminal, is he?"

Hugh shook his head. "No," he answered. "Not to my knowledge, anyway. Honestly, I only recognized the description because I remember sitting at the table for breakfast and thinking he looked like a horse."

"You had breakfast with him?"

"Not in person. He was featured in a special paper my wife is subscribed to. Her sister is a doctor and my wife finds the field interesting to read about. Only Lord knows why."

"Well," said April impatiently, "do you know his name?"

"Kingston," Hugh replied sternly. "Doctor Charles Kingston. But my question is this: what would a plastic surgeon possibly want with Nia?"

* * *

Another moan of pain rolled off Charles Kingston's tongue as he tenderly wrapped gauze around his aching torso. With a sharp hiss, he ended that roll and actually considered applying a third; anything to relieve the searing pain inside his rib cage.

Curse the human body and its weak composition! Three weeks and that aggravating collar bone remained broken. Two weeks and those three stubborn ribs still blazed with breath-taking protest. Only his previously broken nose had been able to heal. He was a doctor, so he knew why his bones remained in such a condition. With these injuries he should have been on bed rest. He was not. He could not afford such a luxury with so many things that needed accomplishing.

He had a goal, yet obstacles have prevented him from achieving it. First, he had been thwarted by shadow figures from keeping Nia Anders in his possession. At one point in their fight, he had been certain who they were. He had been wrong, and now he cannot help fearing they will intervene once again. Then, not a week later, Bishop tracked him down to the subway and gave him a wonderful little parting gift. Charles had barely escaped his wrath and knew without a doubt he had been placed on a particular wanted list. Heaven knows those damned Purple Dragons had failed to bring him his prize after ten days of searching. Hun ensured him that she will be found, yet Charles' faith in the crime boss dwindled greatly with every passing day.

He could be out there instead. He could be turning the tide. Yet he was not. Not by choice, anyhow. One can only push their body so far until will-power alone is not enough to move them. Unfortunately, that was the point he found himself at right now.

'_Damn it all…_'

"Charles?"

Gazing over his bony shoulder, Charles faced a curvy woman accompanying him in bed, that beautiful being known as his wife. She lay under the silk sheets, an angelic site of olive skin and waving locks of thick brunette hair beginning to gray. Her unseeing eyes did not face him, for she was blind, but he could feel her spirit peering into his own. When soft fingertips brushed against his lower back, he knew she was confirming his position.

Charles smiled at her—knowing very well she could sense him doing so—and carefully moved to face her, placing an aged hand on the side of her sunken cheeks. Ah, her skin may be losing its elasticity, but not its glow. To him she would always glow, regardless of her age.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Madeleine," he said in a soft whisper. "Those broken bones I received on the job were giving me difficulty in breathing."

Madeleine sighed, annoyance animating the wrinkles on her face. "You should just call _off_ work. I can't believe the construction company is still telling you to come in when you should be resting."

"We _need_ the money, Maddie. You _know_ that."

The wife frowned and lifted a hand to cover that of her husband's. "Yes, I know," she replied quietly. "I just wish you were still in the medical field. Those charges against you were bogus."

Charles released a breathy chuckle that pained him. "Always the fighter. It's no wonder Olivia is one too, even if you share no blood with her." The man's hand moved from his wife's cheek to her locks of hair, admiring its coarse texture. "I will find a way to fix this, Maddie. _Her_. I promise."

She smiled. "I know you will, Charles…I know you will."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Finally! His identity is revealed! I know, there were no guys in this chapter, but I hope you still found it interesting. Don't forget to leave a review, if you can. :D


	21. How About a Game?

**Author's Note: **Hey. Well, I would like to apologize in advance if chapters come out slowly. Things...have been kinda hard on my end. I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving. Duckie, more layers have yet to be revealed, so prepare. *cackles* Feather, you'll notice that a lot with my future work, too. I think all characters serve a roll more so than just "filler". It shows how small things in life can lead to something bigger! I'm glad you approve of Reese because he snow balled into a character that I cannot leave out of future books now. Just wait until chapters 23 and 24. XD Now, here's the next chapter. A bonding chapter. I hope you all enjoy. ; u;**  
Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 21 - ****How About a Game?**

Nia's body fidgeted on her concrete seat, a silent sigh at her lips. Her pudgy legs dangled over an apartment building's steep ledge, but the twenty-four story drop below is not what unnerved her. Heights, after all, were far less terrifying than making small talk. Her vision shifted towards the right, towards her companion, though it remained there for all of two seconds before returning to the city streets below.

She felt awkward…more so than she usually did in these situations. Since she and Raphael have had a 'see-and-flee' kind of perception for the past two weeks, she had no idea how to act now that they had come to an understanding.

What should she say? What should she do? She was unable to decide! Dozens of possible questions and topics swarmed her mind, yet none of them seemed willing enough to be voiced, no matter how hard she tried forcing them through unsteady lips.

'_Say something_,' she screamed in her mind. '_It's been three days since he last took you up here, so say something. Anything!_'

"Uh, h—how about a…a game?"

Raphael faced Nia rather suddenly when she ask that. "What?" he questioned, curt. Nia spared him another glace. His deep green features were contorted with confusion, as if she had spoken an alien language.

"I said…how about a—a game?"

In the silent moments that passed, Nia thought her question went ignored, probably under the pretense of it being outright silly. A game? Were they kids? No!

"What kinda game did ya have in mind?"

The woman's lips twitched into a shy smile at the mutant's tone; it rung with intrigue and leeriness all at the same time. "I—I don't know," she quickly added. "Just…something…Uh…Easy?"

"Easy?"

"Yeah, why not? It could be fun!" Nia's words had grown rather loud and squeaked towards the end of her question. She did not face the mutant since his voice alone sent her heart racing in a state of cold nervousness. "Just not a physical game," she continued. "That would be hard for me. I get winded going up stairs, which, I admit is rather unhealthy and sad, but I just hate exercise. The sweating, the exerting, the soreness—it's all unpleasant. Anyways. What was I saying? Oh, yeah! A game. An easy game. Word game? We don't have board games up here. How about a game to get to know each other like Twenty Questions?" By the time she had concluded Nia was out of breath with a forced grin plastered across her flushed face. Raphael remained deathly still beside her.

'_Stupid Nia_,' she thought with an inward grimace. '_Why do you always have to ramble loudly like that? Even I'm annoyed with you! And telling him your views on exercise? He doesn't care about that! Why would he want to know? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_'

"Twenty Questions, eh?"

Nia's grin died. Why did he sound like he was on the verge of laughing? Inhaling, the black-haired woman turned towards Raphael. He did not look annoyed, thankfully, though when he claimed a seat beside her, her dark brows furrowed.

"Is Twenty Questions supposed to be funny?" she inquired.

Raphael shook his head. "Nah. Yer game choice is. If ya wanna get to know each ot'er t'at's not the route to go."

"W—what do you mean?"

"It's a guessin' game."

"What? N—no, it isn't."

"Uh, yeah. It is. Twenty Questions is when one party picks an object in t'eir head and the second party has twenty chances to ask questions to find out what it is."

"My mother never taught it to me that way," Nia grumbled.

"Yeah? What way did she teach it to ya, t'en?" With an eye ridge raised, Raphael maneuvered to sit Indian-style on his ledge seat then twisted his for a good view of Nia, who avoided eye contact.

"S—she taught me it as an exercise of sorts," she replied. "As a child it was to, uh"—she sighed slowly—"try to help me bond with classmates…You pick someone then, after introducing your names, you take turns asking questions about one another. Th—they can be about anything, dreams, likes, uh, fears…" New uncertainty silenced Nia as she cleared her throat. For a moment, she contemplated retracting her suggestion, but Raphael soon spoke up.

"Alright," he said. "We can play. But on one condition."

"W—what's that?"

"Shin."

"Um…What does a shin have to do with this game?"

Raphael did not bother holding back laughter, even when Nia's face flashed bright red with embarrassment. "No. Not a shin. Just shin. It's the Bushido teachin' of honesty," the mutant managed to say.

"Oh…"

"If I ask a question, ya gotta give me the truth, no matter what. Deal?"

"O.K.," Nia replied, biting her lip. "B—but the same applies to you as well, right?" If his pressed mouth were an indicator, Nia would guess Raph did not fancy equal ground. Even so, he sighed and nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "So who goes first?"

"You can…"

"Alright. Let's see…Why do ya ramble art facts? Like when ya met us for the first time?"

"Ah, well…I—I only do that when I'm scared or very nervous," Nia answered with a frown. "I've done it ever since first grade. I—I guess it's just my coping mechanism. Art's the only thing I feel fully confident in, so maybe…my instinct is to comfort myself with it…"

"Does it actually work?"

The young woman gave Raph a weak smile. "If anything…it keeps me sane…So, uh, speaking of being scared, Mikey tells me you have entomophobia. Is that true? You don't seem like the type to be scared of bugs…" In an instant, Nia felt Raphael tense beside her.

"I ain't scared of t'em!" he responded loudly, pointing a finger. "I just dun't _like_ t'em. T'ere's a difference!"

'_Not in this case there isn't_,' Nia thought. But she decided not to push the matter since the truth was clear.

"Mikey can be so ridiculous sometimes," the mutant continued under his breath. "Did ya know he watched over ya for a few days before the fire?"

The human blinked. "He…what?"

"Yeah. From eleven to one, mainly."

"Uh, he's…he's never told me that…"

"I t'ink he's too embarrassed to tell ya because he seemed like a stalker."

"I…don't know how I feel about that." Nia's vision fell to her lap as her brows furrowed. "I had been saved because he was there, but…"

"What'd ya do so late at night anyways?" questioned Raph after a small pause.

"Tutoring from a college student," Nia replied simply.

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yeah. I—I just…learn better during the night."

"What do ya need a tutor for? I t'ought ya told Mikey ya weren't in school."

"Heh. Well, I am and, uh, I'm not. I'm finishing up high school online and being tutored at Lyngavaer Medical Collage where…where my daddy used to work…"

"Ya still haven't finished high school?"

The woman shook her head, grimacing at the reserved shock detected in Raphael's tone. "I missed a lot of school days from fifth grade to eighth grade," she said, "so I've been held back two years. I…honestly have a hard time with school in general. Math especially…"

"Why'd ya miss so much? Did it have something to do with that picture?"

Nia gave a light laugh. "S—sorry, but you've asked a lot of questions already. It's my turn to ask now."

"Che. Fine. But we're gettin' back to t'at question next round."

Nia really did not want that, but she smiled all the same. "Hum…Is your favorite color red?"

"Yer askin' t'at because of my bandana," Raph stated flatly. "The answer is no, it ain't. My bandana is red only because t'at's the color Master Splinter assigned to me as a kid. I dun't really gotta favorite, actually. Black is cool, t'ough."

The woman nodded. "I see. So…is pizza really your only favorite food?"

"Nah. I also like cereal. Chocolate Chunk. Next."

"Uh…What do you do in your free time? You know, when you actually have fun."

Displeasure clearly puckered Raphael's face as the human flashed a nervous smile. "Look. I have just as much fun as Mikey does. Usually, I eit'er train or play video games."

"Training…must mean a lot to you four, doesn't it?" asked Nia softly.

"Yeah…"

"Why is that? I—I mean, why did Mister Splinter start training you brothers to begin with?"

"Beats me," Raph replied, almost offhanded. "To instill discipline? To give us somet'in' to do? I can't say for sure; I've never asked him. T'ough…he could've done it in honor of his master…like…t'rough us, we keep Yoshi's memory alive…Or, somet'in'. I—I dun't know. Maybe t'at reason just sounds stupid."

"No. I don't think it does. It makes sense." Nia managed a small smile. "Through teachings is the only way to truly keep alive the memory of someone, particularly when it comes to...to family. I—I know I will pass down the things I learned from my parents to my children..."

"Yeah, maybe," Raphael grumbled, his gaze lost on the night horizon ahead. He remained silent for several seconds before shaking his head. "T'at was question number six, which leaves ya wit' two more before yer caught up."

"Uh, but, I—I don't know what to ask yet."

"T'en I'll go."

"But—"

"Why'd ya miss so much school?"

"Sick days," replied Nia, tense. Really, she had no desire to say any more than that. Raphael's constant stare, however, saw that a defeated groan escaped her throat. "It wasn't a good time for me, O.K.? I…I've suffered from chronic headaches that mark my…episodes for as long as I can remember. Daddy would have to pull me out of class for days at a time. Sometimes I…I couldn't even get out of bed. It seemed like I spent more time with doctors as a child then I ever did with my peers. I hated it…"

"Well t'at explains yer cheery expression in the photo."

Nia sighed at the ninja's sarcasm. "The only good times back then were when I could spend hours painting with my mother. The pain was always less noticeable then…"

"T'at couldn't have been the _only_ good t'ing about yer childhood," Raph commented, jaw slack with disbelief. "Seriously, what ot'er good memories do ya got? Even_ I_ have more t'an just one, and I grew up in a sewer."

"I—I'm being completely honest, as you asked, Mister Raphael. All I ever did as a child is paint and do crafts and the like. It was…my sanctuary. I had never taken to playing outside or going out with others, so I didn't make many friends at school…When Mama grew too busy with her job I began spending more and more time alone."

"T'at sounds…borin'."

Nia shrugged, though the mutant's statement stung her heart. "I grew accustomed to it."

"I dun't see how ya could," remarked Raph. "T'at would drive me _crazy_. My brothers may be shell-for-brains, but I couldn't imagine growin' up wit'out 'em. My childhood would have been so dull."

"Dull?" A small smile found its way to Nia's lips. "You four seem like you were the type to keep one another real busy as children. What good memories do you have of your childhood?"

"We did a lot as kids," the mutant answered. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"With Mikey? O—oh, no. With Mister Leonardo."

"Ya wanna good memory wit' Leo?" Nia nodded firmly and allowed her smile to grow with anticipation. Raphael raised an eye ridge, yet did not shy away when she scooted a little closer to him. "Uh…"

"You just said you had a lot."

"I know, I know! Jeeze. Just gimme a minute, will ya?"

The woman did as asked, save for a slight squirm here and there. She eyed her companion closely as he racked his brain for the right memory, which he celebrated with a snap of his thick fingers.

"O.K. I got one. Mikey has always been the goof of our clan, as I'm sure ya can tell. He was even worse as a kid and teen. I tell ya, we're all still hyper alert when it comes to April Fool's Day, yet somehow we wind up in his damned traps regardless. Anyways, one year, when we were about…uh…eight, I convinced Leo to help me pay him back."

"Y—you mean Mister Leonardo actually agreed?" Nia questioned. "Oh—uh—I don't mean any offense! It's just that h—he seems like he would have been a serious child…."

"No, no. Yer right," responded Raphael. "For the most part he was, but he also had his moments. He was a kid too, of course."

"Y—Yes. Of course. So, what was the prank?"

"We got him to watch a scary movie called Thinman a few days prior."

"I've head of that movie. It's an eighties horror, right?"

Raph nodded. "Yeah. Splinter was against it, so we watched it behind his back."

"What good children," Nia said, giggling.

"We were. Mikey was so freaked t'at he couldn't sleep the whole night t'rough. Leo and I would feed his fear by settin' things up to make strange sounds at night t'en tell him it's all in his head. Once or twice we would dress up like the villain, allow him to spot us in the shadows, t'en disappear. When April Fools came around, Mikey saw t'at as an opportunity to lighten his spirits, but Leo and I were nowhere to be found. We convinced Donny to join in, so we were able to add a little drama by killin' him off t'rough the day."

"Oh, the poor dear. Michelangelo must have been so frightened!"

"He was! And at the big reveal we were able to record his girly scream reaction, which Don edited into a remix for us all to enjoy. It may still be on our DVD shelf."

Nia found herself laughing along with Raphael in spite of herself. "T—that's so mean," she squeaked between laughs.

"To an only child, maybe," Raph retorted. "If ya had siblin's, t'ough, ya'd call it poetic justice."

"I—I guess I am at a disadvantage when it comes to understanding brothers and sisters…or others in general."

"Well, ya understand Mikey just fine, so I wouldn't say yer completely inept." Raphael flashed a playful smirk, cutting off his laughter with a click of his tongue. Nia found herself studying his amber eyes, though they did not face her. She could have sworn she sensed a tinge of jealousy.

'_Maybe it's just my imagination…but…now he's silent again. Guess I should change the subject._'

"Um, it's your turn again, Mister Raphael, if you want."

"Just Raphael," the mutant snapped suddenly.

Nia flinched. "S—sorry, Raphael."

"Don't apologize." Raph sighed then drew in a deep breath. "I'm just—never mind. Why do ya dress the way ya do?"

"Huh?" Nia quickly glanced down at her outfit. "I—Is there something wrong with it?"

"Well, since April handed ya some money and Mikey and ya dressed in disguise to go shoppin' on Tuesday, it's only been t'is week t'at we've really seen yer…style. It's, uh, somet'in'. Especially wit' t'ose tights."

Nia's gaze still lingered on herself when Raphael pointed towards her legs. In her opinion, she had kept herself dressed-down, given current circumstances. She had stuck to a pair of dark-washed jean shorts—as opposed to the light purple or teal ones she would usually wear—and refrained from adding too much quirky jewelry like plastic rings, thick bracelets, and studded belts. Today she wore only a single hot pink and black beaded necklace and a pair of strawberry earrings that April had bought weeks ago. Likewise, her white 'NEW YORK' top screamed everything but strange, though it did hang off one shoulder for being two sizes too wide. Was it the hot pink fishnet she wore beneath that warranted a 'something' from Raphael? Certainly not; plenty of women in New York City wore fishnet. Her eyes soon wandered from the blue Converse on her feet to the black and white print tights adorning her legs. Yes, tights were rather warm during the summer, but this pair was footless and thin enough that her legs would not sweat too badly. So what was so strange about them?

"I like tights," Nia finally said. "They made me feel secure as a child and…I guess I never grew out of them."

"But even in the summer? Ya gotta be roastin'. What series is t'at anyway?"

"I guess I've grown used to it…and the art is from Silver Sentry's on-going series."

"T'at guy's comic is still on-goin'?" Raph's eye ridges knit together. "I t'ought after he retired last year all his merchandise was supposed to fade out. T'at's what he wanted to happen. At least, t'at's what he told us last Christmas."

"Wait…You have Christmas with the Silver Sentry?"

"Yeah. Are ya a fan?"

Nia realized she begun bouncing with excitement only when Raphael sent her an amused grin. She immediately drew back from the space she had not meant to close between them and after a deep breath, collected herself.

"Y—Yes, I am," she answered. "I can't believe Mikey hasn't told me this yet. He was my favorite hero as a child, next to Madam Vermillion." At Raphael's inquiring stare, Nia continued, "S—she was a non-power hero in Italy from the early nineteen-seventies to early nineteen-nineties. Her primary weapon was a metal braided whip, and...and she always sought to see the good in others, even villains."

"Wit' a whip?"

"Yes." Nia laughed lightly. "She had a very hard appearance; however, she was nothing but pure optimism on the inside."

"Heh. Sounds like a hero Mikey would like."

"Actually, h—he does. We've talked about her before."

"Yet anot'er t'ing ya'll got in common," Raph mumbled, turning away.

"E—excuse me?"

"Not'in'. We've gotten off track. It's yer turn."

Nia offered the mutant a hesitant nod to show her willingness at moving on, yet a part of her longed to know why Raphael had looked so defeated. "Why do you call Mister Leonardo 'Fearless'?" she asked. "Is it a nickname he earned in battle?"

"Uh, not exactly," Raph replied. "Leo and I used to fight a lot when we were teenagers…He was chosen as successor to our clan and I…"

"Was jealous?"

He huffed. "Yeah. I couldn't stand his self-righteous attitude and bein' bossed around. Heh, his attitude still bugs me, actually, but at least he's gotten better. I started callin' him 'Fearless' mainly to mock him. It's grown into a nickname now, though. He dun't mind it anymore."

"Or maybe Mister Leonardo has learned to pick his battles," Nia said under her breath. She felt a pair of amber eyes boring into her, though she kept her gaze adverted.

"W'atever. Either way, he dun't say anyt'in'. So w'at number was t'at?"

"Number?"

"Question."

"O—oh. Um…Do you know?"

"If ya dun't know, I say it's my go."

"Huh?"

"Why do ya call everyone Mister or Misses?"

"D—does it bother you?"

"Haven't we all been tellin' ya to stop it?"

"I—I'm sorry," Nia replied, soft. "It's just something my father beat into me. By now it'ssecond nature and changing it is…difficult."

"I can kinda understand parents wantin' t'eir children to be courteous," Raph continued, "but ya take it to the extreme."

"I _said_ my father beat it into me, O.K.?"

"…Literally?"

"Wh—what? No. No! My father would never lay a hand on me like that. Ever." The female sighed. "Daddy used to mingle with a lot of high class people. I used to attend their parties, and conventions, and the like when I was young. Manners are everything to people of that status. That's what he told me. So, I always made sure to keep on my best behavior."

"Ah…I see…"

"I—it's really not as bad it sounds."

"It's sounds borin'."

"Well…yeah…I—It was, but…the manners made me feel more like an adult back then. I liked that."

Raphael shrugged. "To each their own, I guess. Yer turn."

"O.K….um…" Nia trailed off in thought. She had not anticipated running out of questions. Well, not run out, per say. It was more like she had plenty to ask, and not enough decisiveness to pick one. Until this point she had gone with simple, generic inquiries—safe subjects. But now that she had been given a chance, she found herself gravitating towards a topic perhaps best left untouched.

"So," she started, "h—have…have you ever had a…crush…?" The female watched with an uncertain grin as Raphael twitched uncomfortably. He mumbled something incoherent, his head twisting away, and gave a light huff.

"Choose anot'er question," he hissed.

"I would rather not." Nia spoke without thought or delay, yet kept a meek tone. "Remember, any question is fair game and you have to answer truthfully…if you want to same from me, that is…" The last part she whispered. Her eyes wandered to the waning moon above before returning to the mutant. He sighed, unease riddling his body like a plague. Even so, the second his gaze found hers she knew he would give in.

"_Fine_," he said through gritted teeth. "My brot'ers and I have had a crush on April at least once in our lives. She was the first female we ever knew. After her…I, uh, I grew attached to anot'er human friend of ours, Angel."

"She has a pretty name," added Nia softly, though her remake went ignored.

"We started datin' two years ago, but…it didn't work out. And no, _not_ for the reason ya would t'ink."

Nia couldn't comprehend why Raphael scowled at her. "W—what reason would that be?" she inquired, slow and timid.

"Dun't play dumb; ya know t'at's a pet peeve of mine by now!" He scoffed. "Ya'd be lyin' if ya said the question hadn't crossed ya mind. How does a _human_ and a _mutant_ have a relationship?"

"I—I wasn't—"

Raph cut her off with an intense glare. "Well, for yer information, we broke up for _ot'er_ reasons."

Nia had to pull her knees to her chin for comfort. Raphael obviously felt offended by this topic, yet he did not change it. Did that mean he wanted to talk about it?

"Which reasons were those?" she asked. "Were you too…different?"

"More like too similar," the ninja replied, sighing. "We were always fightin', even over the smallest of t'ings. And since we're both super stubborn, neit'er of us wanted to give into the ot'er."

"I read in some stories how a challenging relationship like that appeals more to the people involved."

"Well…It did. At first. And makin' up after the arguments made everyt'in' well-worth it." Just soon as a smirk worked its way up Raph's wide mouth, it faltered. "But t'en it became a constant. We didn't even try to make up because t'ings just grew worse every time we did. I grew tired wit' it all. We both did…"

"I—I see…Do you…do you still love her?" Nia's shoulder flinched under Raph's annoyed gaze.

"Ya've asked too many questions in a row," he spat. "It's my turn again."

The woman could only sigh in submission as she replied, "O.K."

"What about ya? Have ya had any crushes?" If the woman knew any better, she would say that Raphael's question—along with his smirk—was a show of payback rather than true interest.

"I've had a few through my school career," she started softly, "but my…With my chronic migraines I barely existed there anyway. I couldn't bring myself to pursue any feelings. I—It's just not my nature…Nick Nolan, though…he's probably the only one outside my family to get close to me. Really, I don't think he realizes what that means…"

"Who's Nick Nolan?"

"M—my tutor…"

"Do ya like him?"

"W—what kind of a question is that?"

"Dun't look away from me! It's no more inappropriate t'an the ones ya just asked!"

"Yeah, b—but you seemed like…I…um…"

'_Shin, Nia. Shin. If you want to be friends with him, be honest._'

She sighed. "Maybe…maybe I do, ya know…like him some."

"Cliché," commented the mutant.

"Hey!" Nia's voice forced itself out before she could filter her words or rein in her heated tone. "Isn't it natural for someone to feel attracted to the first person who shows an interest in them, even if out of pure curiosity? After all these years I've grown into a shadow, a recluse, in this world, so Nick's attention is—is wonderful. What person _doesn't _want that? T—to feel acknowledged? To share things with? I bet Angel had been the first woman to have a romantic interest in you, wasn't she?"

Bull's eye. Raphael's gaze faltered then hardened like stone. He stood up in haste—abandoning both his seat and his companion—then began walking away.

'_Way to go, Nia,_' the woman thought as she immediately slid off the ledge. '_This is why you keep quiet, ugh…_' Sighing, she kept a distance while following Raph to the building's fire escape. She expected him to descend without a word or second glance, but he stopped short of doing just that.

"It's different for me, ya know?" he said without facing her. "Ya just hide in the shadows, use t'em like a shield, while I _am_ the shadows. When yer someone like me, a mutant,"—his fists clenched—"chances for good t'ings are rare. My brot'ers and I have come to grips wit' the possibility of only havin' each ot'er to share t'ings wit', t'at what we got now is as good as our lives will _ever_ be…Ya outta be t'ankful ya got the chance for somt'in' more."

"R—Raphael, I—"

"Let's just go home. I'm done talkin'."

"But—"

Ring! Ring!

"I—Is that your phone?"

Raphael did not answer Nia. He simply detached a cell phone shaped like a turtle shell from the leather pouch on his belt and lifted it to his ear.

"What is it?" the ninja asked, gruff. "No, I haven't. Why?" He paused just for a moment then cursed sharply. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me! …Alright, we're on our way back. Bye." When he slammed his cell shut, he did so with unreasonable force. Again, he cursed like a sailor, stomping his heavy foot on the roof as if to tell off the universe. "And our Turtle Luck just gets better and better!"

"W—what's wrong?" inquired Nia. She took a step forward, but froze at the worry etched in Raph's expression when he turned towards her. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah," he answered, "April's missin'."

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**Author's Note:** Things don't go smooth with them for long, do they? My, my. Don't forget to review! :D


	22. A Good Soul

**Author's Note: **Alright. First. I would love to thank Duckie, Vicky, Feather, Fox, and Luke for their reviews! You have no idea what it means to me to know you're still eager for more and/or enjoy the start of Nia and Raph's relationship. *hugs you all* So, this chapter may not be as eventful as you were expecting, given the end of chapter twenty-one; however...it's important. LOL. Enjoy!**  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 22 - ****A Good Soul**

Damien Hanson downed yet another shot of Vodka. It was his tenth that evening. Or perhaps it was his seventh or thirteenth. He could not be definite with such a haze clouding his mind. The one thing he did know for sure was that drunkenness had settled in his veins. And that had been his intent from the moment he entered the bar a few hours earlier.

"Would you like another, handsome?" a female bartender asked almost too sweetly. Curls of blonde hair barely fell over her naked shoulders as she leaned over the counter space before Damien, a sly smirk across her painted lips.

"Damien, you've had enough," the man's latest company added. From the seat beside him, his companion shooed away the bartender, who gave an annoyed glare at the interruption prior to complying.

"I can drink as much as I want, Jezebel Summers," said Damien with a slur. His mind could still function, but it seemed his lips were slow to catch up.

"No. Damien, I'm here because you wanted to talk. I didn't come to watch you drink yourself silly." Jezebel folded a pair of arms over her busty chest so as to emphasize any displeasure. Today, she had dressed in a sleeveless sweater top and skinny jeans—both of which did well to emphasize her wonderful curves.

Damien allowed his eyes to wonder her form a moment longer before answering. "What about the good old days? You never had a problem drinking and talking with me then." He gave a smile, though got the feeling it hung lopsided on his face. Jezebel did not roll her intense green eyes. Rather, her face relaxed with a hit of melancholy that had Damien's attention drifting to his empty shot glass.

"Those 'good old days' were years ago, D," the Hispanic said softly. "I'm straight now, attending law school. The work is hard, but worth it. Besides, those drinks always lead to something else then we did everything _but_ talk." A deep chuckle resonated in Damien's chest at his companion's small smirk. For a moment his mind flooded with memories of being sixteen and very willing to please Jezebel in every way he could.

"I don't recall you ever complaining," he replied. He smirked as well, although the female had dropped her mild amusement already.

"I still have nothing to complain about in those regards," she retorted.

"But you have complaints in other regards?"

"You must too, Damien, if you're in a bar." The dark-skinned male sighed and rubbed his buzzing temple. Jezebel's stare was unrelenting. Not discriminating, but worried for her long-time boyfriend. "Damien…why did you call me here?"

"I just needed you to be beside me," he stated solemnly. His eyes kept focused on that shot glass, only moving once when Jezebel encased his large hands with her own graceful hands.

"But why?" she asked. "You usually only make these requests when you're torn. What happened?"

'_Ugh, I forgot how much drinking enhances her power of persuasion…or maybe it just weakens my guard…_'

"Damien?"

The man snapped into awareness again and blinked to clear his vision some. "Yes?"

"What happened?" Fleeting softness had now been replaced with dry irritation, which felt more natural to a stone-faced Damien.

"We've moved into the kidnapping business," he said as easily as recalling the day's date. Maybe this casualness is what had Jezebel pausing before giving a reply.

"What?"

"Around two weeks ago Hun made a deal with a man who calls himself Mister Tall to find and capture someone, a woman. We're supposed to find her in the city then…hand her over to this third party. We don't know why, but the Purple Dragon that does so will be granted a few royalties. Needless to say, a lot of guys are anxious to find her, especially Rojo."

"Wait a minute. You're going to take a civilian off the streets and give her to a stranger? Just like that? No questions asked?" The Hispanic snatched back her hands and regarded Damien with a glare that would have left most people unnerved.

"It's what's been ordered of us." Damien did not even flinch. "You know if Hun wants it done, it gets done, with or without my help."

"No. No, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you know better. This is a person's life, D, not a block of cocaine you're trying to transport from point A to point B."

"Why do you sound so surprised?" the man asked with a brusque scoff. "We're the top gang in this city. We steal, mug, rape and murder. Is kidnapping really that far off?"

Her response: a snarled expression and raised voice. "That's _not_ the point! You're going to do something about it, right?"

"Hey, I'm a lackey. I can't do anything for her if Hun's running the show."

"Oh, right, I forgot what an obedient little _dog_ you are!"

"Enough, Jezebel! I asked you here so I could talk about this civilly with you."

"Right. Since when does 'civil' cover getting drunk and talking about kidnappings?"

"Will you watch your voice? Do you want a Bouncer coming over here?"

"Damien…you…Gah!" Taking a deep breath, Jezebel fought to contain her emotions. Damien studied the woman as she closed then reopen her eyes with a newfound sense of control he had never witnessed in years past.

'_Funny. Whatever happened to just hitting me upside the head…?_'

"Well," she grumbled, "that little order of yours may explain why those punks scoped us out."

"Which punks?" inquired Damien. A dull pressure could be felt in his palm, and only a brief glance at the counter could confirm that the man was indeed clenching his fist dangerously.

'_If she gives me descriptions, they're dead men._'

Jezebel's sigh came long and prompt. "A week ago Miriam and I were walking back to our apartment. Three P.D.s cornered us in an alley and kept insisting that Miriam was someone named Nia Anders."

"Nia Anders is the name of the woman we're supposed to take in."

The olive-skinned female rolled her eyes. "Oh, lovely," she said in the most sarcastic voice possible. "Anyways, no matter how many times I told them they were wrong, they didn't let up. Idiots must be newbies because none of them recognized who I was."

Damien nodded in concurrence, pure amusement at her sour face tugging the corners of his lips up just slightly. "Most of us still do, though, Dragonspot," he replied. "Don't worry."

"_Don't_ use that name on me anymore," Jezebel snapped coldly. "You may cling to your codename still, but I've thrown mine away, Bones." She hissed the last word like acid on her tongue, so the man thought it best to veer back on tract.

"Right. I know, Jez. Sorry…Anyways, Murray Hill is mid East Side territory. It's not very eventful."

"Which means they were newbies then."

"More than likely. We've recently taken in a few recruits that need refining. Uh, did you…fight them?" Damien asked this carefully while eyeing the Hispanic.

"Of course not!" she replied with a curt huff.

"What? Even then? How come?" He could not understand why she shook her head and looked away.

"You know why. I made a promise to myself not to. Not only that, but…Miriam was there."

"Are you still scared she'll see what you're capable of?"

"No, I…Maybe. I just want to protect her, you know? Damien," Jezebel drew her wounded eyes back to the male's face much like a timid child, "you and I entered the P.D. life together. We saw things children that age should never see and did things even a decent adult wouldn't do. In my naive mind, I thought that would be all I was good for. But my family proved to me otherwise. Miriam had a better head on her shoulders in that time, even though she's younger. She sees the good in everything. I don't want her opinion of me to change…"

"Miriam could never think lowly of you, Jez. She idolizes your drive. She's still talking to you even after your, uh, accident, right?" Damien frowned when the woman's attention adverted to the shellacked counter. "You haven't…you haven't told her about that?"

"She knows something bad happened," muttered Jezebel.

"And you left it at that?"

"It's all she needs to know. As far as she's concerned, it was simply my turning point for going straight."

"But you're lying to her."

"It's no lie. It's just…part truth."

Damien hummed agreement, but did so without true belief. He gave a light sigh then recaptured the woman's hands, running a comforting thumb over her scarred knuckles. She glanced up for a mere moment.

"Jez…you should have fought," he said softly. "Whatever promise you made in the past, you should have defended yourself."

"If it were just me, I would have. But the risk of Miriam getting hurt was too high. One had a gun pointed at our face with a few feet distance between us. Had I charged, the others could have pulled more weapons. Believe me, if they were armed with only pipes and bats, I would have done something more."

"How did you get away if you didn't fight them?" In his grip, Damien felt the Hispanic tense.

"We were saved," she stated, stiff.

"Saved by who?"

Jezebel paused, her mouth agape. Her green eyes lifted from the counter to stare into his, where she kept her gaze until her mind settled on a resolve.

"A turtle saved us," she finally answered. "I think he was one of the city's so called Phantoms."

"Oh? You're talking about one of those green-costumed freaks that stop us every chance they get?"

"It's…it's not a costume, D."

A half-hearted chuckle escaped Damien's lips; however, Jezebel's expression killed that diminutive humor quickly. "You're not joking."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh…" The buzz in Damien's head did not cushion the news. Rather, a reeling mind left him physically lightheaded. He attempted to steady himself, but only a woman's gentle touch to his face could quell his nausea. "How…how is something like that even possible?" he questioned to Jezebel.

"I don't know," she replied while taking back her hand. "But…he got injured protecting Miriam and I from those thugs. We brought him to our house until he woke up."

"I—Is he still there?"

The Hispanic shook her head. "He left a few hours after. Others…like him came and picked him up."

This was too much. Damien had to place his head in his hands just to keep another dizzy spell at bay. Real monsters? In New York? When had the conversation taken such a turn? He had even forgotten the true purpose of this meeting. '_Maybe I should have just stayed at H.Q. after all…_'

Jezebel regained her boyfriend's attention with a light touch of the arm. "I know how you must feel" she said, calm. "P.D.s hate them on pure principle because they stop crime. But that doesn't mean _you_ have to. He protected us, D, so that's why I'm going to ask you to _please_ keep this between us. And…if you ever come across the one in orange…don't hurt him."

"I have to get my jobs done at all costs, Jez. I—I can't promise something like that."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't." Damien scowled at the woman's pushy tone. "What am I supposed to do? Play stupid and let them ruin plans? Hun doesn't exactly reward imbeciles."

"Then don't answer to Hun. Answer to yourself. If I can do it, so can you!"

"Not this again," the male grumbled. He cringed as a swift headache made its self known, yet found an odd sense of comfort in the pain, like a physical reminder. Maybe he would not remember this conversation later.

"You're a good soul, D." Every fiber of Damien's will told him to keep his head down. Even so, Jezebel's voice convinced him otherwise, and green eyes held him under a spell as she spoke. "Just because you were born into a life of crime, doesn't mean you have to follow suit. You aren't a killer and you aren't a rapist. At most you're a thief and mugger. I know without a doubt you see yourself as nothing more than a lost man who has fallen so many times that….he doesn't see a point in getting back up anymore. That feeling is all too familiar."

"And next you're going to tell me that it doesn't have to be that way. Yadda, yadda, yadda." The alcohol in his system did little to censor any malice. "I've lost my will to go strait by this point, Jez. It's too hard for such a little reward. I love you, but there isn't anyone in this city that would be willing to give me a fifth shot. I've tried building bridges and they all burned. The only reason you've gotten so far is because of family ties, so lay off the subject!"

Damien's migraine increased in intensity, unlike Jezebel's face. The Hispanic remained silent and emotionless, a sure-sign her lover had crossed a treacherous line that was never meant to be touched. He blamed the Vodka.

"Forgive me for wanting your life to be better, Damien." Her tone may have been soft, but the underplaying snarl of annoyance, hurt, and frustration was painfully evident. She slid from the bar stool and requested a check.

"Come on, Jez. I'm sorry."

"No." She held up a hand without facing him. When the blonde bartender handed Jez the bill, she promptly dug into her back pocket to produce cash. "You're right. I wouldn't be where I am now without my mother. She was a good woman and helped me a lot, no matter how stupid I may have been. I was hoping I could be the same strength for you…but it seems you don't care either way."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just—"

"I said I _don't_ want to hear it." She glanced at him only to flash a cold glare then collected her change. Afterwards, the bar entrance became her goal. She stopped two strides from his seat, speaking over her shoulder. "If you don't contact the police soon, I will. Contrary to your subordinate complex, I can't sit back and passively let someone get kidnapped. It's neither morally correct nor fair. You have that sense of justice; you just choose to ignore it. Good night, Damien."

She wanted to say more, Damien could tell. Instead of fully venting, however, Jezebel stormed out the door and down the street. Glossy brown eyes followed her form through the bar's front windows then fell to the countertop when she disappeared from sight.

'_Great, I managed to piss off the only person in the world who doesn't consider me dirt. Ugh, she knows how much I hate being prodded at, though. Falling back into the life just seems destined for me, so why fight it?_'

Still, another part of him knew his girlfriend was right. He did not want to go through with Hun's command. If at all possible, Damien avoided violence. Unlike many other P.D.s, he found no pleasure in being outright cruel and could not stand the scent of blood in the air. Most villainous intent had to be fudged on his part simply because he lacked drive when it came down to the prime instincts of harming another.

'_A conscience. I've always had a conscience. What an annoying little bastard…_'

But what could be done? Years of street life could only give him the tools to bury his just principles. Killing it completely would be an impossible feat.

'_No good can come from a paid kidnapping. We have no idea what this Mister Tall wants…He says he doesn't want her harmed, but…he could also be saving the privilege. He could be a serial killer or involved in human trafficking. People do sick things. I don't want to be a part of that. I can't..._'

"Damn woman," Damien snarled to himself, "why do you make me think about these things?"

"You alright there, handsome?" The bartender was back and a flashing Damien a strange look.

"I'm fine," he replied curtly. "I just got a lot on my mind…"

The woman released a feminine giggle, soft and charming, yet he was not tempted to face her. "It seems the alcohol hasn't worked its purpose yet. Perhaps you need another drink."

"No." Damien shook his head and immediately regretted doing so. Once the world tilted back into focus, he spoke, low. "Just call me a cab. I'm ready to get out of here."

"Fine. If that's what you really want." The African-American gave a startled jump once a hard-line phone dropped in front of his face like an anchor. The blonde countered his mild glare with a mock smile then sauntered to another customer, as if taunting his discussion.

'_So she ain't happy to see me go. I'm flattered. It would have been more entertaining if she had done that while Jez was here. A good catfight just may have lifted my spirits…_'

With a light snort, Damien hailed a cab service. Soon, a yellow transport paralleled the sidewalk just outside the bar. Somehow the man had managed walking from his stool to his ride outside without incident. He slid into the leather-clad back seat and promptly instructed the cabbie where to go.

During the hazy trip to his apartment, he unknowingly slept. One moment neon lights were passing by like a hypnotic lullaby, the next his window framed a grimy neighborhood he had been calling home since birth. The car rolled to an easy stop on the road just before a tall building. Damien thought he heard the driver make some snide remark about it being lucky enough to still be standing, but he was far too tired to care. He paid the male driver some fare (not quite sure how much) then stumbled out the open door. It did not take long after he hit the cracked sidewalk for the cab to take off, wheels squealing in its wake.

'_I didn't even get to close the back door. What's go him so scared, anyway?_'

Damien collected himself from the concrete and steadied his body against a narrow staircase that led into his apartment building. As he situated himself on a wooden step, his eye caught a glimpse of a symbol painted across the front door. The color alone cleared his vague curiosity.

'_Am I so drunk that I forgot my living is clearly marked all over this building? This dump is pure Purple Dragon territory. That driver was right to run before we swarmed his car for parts!_'

Damien laughed at the thought, honestly laughed. And he continued to laugh until someone approached him. Had the street lamp's soft light not been blocked, he probably would have laughed himself asleep right there on the stairs.

"Yo, dude, I got a question for ya."

Damien had to squint for focus. The man looming over him could be described as Purple Dragon material, though Damien knew he was not. Straight black hair fell almost to his broad shoulders with no bangs. He decorated his barrel of a chest with a leather jacket and maroon undershirt, and sported dark-wash jeans on his long legs. It seemed only his black sneakers held a trace of decent condition.

'_What's a norm doing in these parts…?_'

"What kind of question?" Surprisingly, the words left Damien's lips without a slur.

"I'm lookin' for a woman," the man said in a gruff tone.

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not the best substitute," remarked the gang member with a glare. He grinned in his mind when the man's tanned face paled then turned almost green.

"I ain't t'at type of guy!" the stranger snapped. "T'is woman is around five-seven with deep green eyes and red hair t'at's usually pulled into a bun. She's got a great body and fair skin."

"Look, I'm sorry you lost your girlfriend, but I haven't seen anyone like that around here."

"Are ya sure?"

"Yup, haven't seen her." The second man cursed then spun on a heel to continue his travels down the sidewalk without as much as a 'thanks'.

'_Sheesh, whatever happened to manners?_'

Damien tsked, but was not offended. After all, growing up with Purple Dragons never left much room for standard etiquette.

'_Guess I should be heading upstairs now…_'

A long groan later the man stood on shaky legs and twisted to ascend one rickety staircase. The steps squeaked under his weight, yet held firm as they had for the last twenty-four years. Security in the building had always been lack, so there was no need for him to check in or confirm his identity. Instead, he rounded the first corner of the main hall then entered whichever elevator deemed itself available. A soft 'ding' alerted him to his destination, the seventh floor. His Nike's made no sound against the carpeted pathway, but a loud tone from his pocket rendered any attempt at stealth mute. The man dug into all four pockets of his jeans before a slick cell-phone could be found.

'_How long have I had this…?_'

"Uh…hello?" he answered hesitantly.

"Bones, you won't believe this!"

"Rojo?"

"Yeah, it's me, idiot," hissed Rojo with a huff. "No one else bothers to call you. I bet you forgot you even had a phone, didn't you?"

Damien could imagine his partner's cold eyes rolling and frowned. "I'm not in a good mood, so make this quick."

"Fine. Whatever. Hun has retracted the Nia Anders search."

"Oh? Why?"

Rojo scoffed in amusement from the other end as Damien walked forward once again. "Hun discovered Mister Tall's true identity. Apparently, he's some has-been surgeon named Charles Kingston."

"OK…so what's that supposed to mean?" Though it could not be noticed by Rojo, Damien quirked a dark eyebrow.

"He's a fallen man, Bones. He's at rock-bottom right now with little to spare for himself, let alone the P.D.s. He paid part of Hun's fee in cash, but when Hun demanded the last half, Kingston refused. Boss man believes he really doesn't have any more money, and you know how he feels about being swindled."

"So Hun wants him dead?" Damien asked plainly. His stomach churned when Rojo chuckled.

"Maybe. The boss has given new orders. We're going to track Kingston down then plunder him for all he's worth, what little that may be."

"Who's 'we're'?"

"You, me, Little Spice, and a new guy, Hunt."

"Hun's letting a _newbie_ on this mission?"

"You sound as surprised as I was. But Hunt's proved what he can do. Little Spice and I saw to it. Believe me, he can handle it."

"I'm sure."

"Little Spice was actually impressed," said Rojo, almost laughing. "You know how hard that is to do."

"Well, she had a difficult teacher," Damien replied automatically.

"True that. Too bad Dragonspot isn't still in the game, huh? Her A-game was something to be admired. "

"Enough," snapped Damien. "We aren't talking about her."

"You brought her up. Damn…You must be drunk; that's the only time you get testy about that woman."

"It's that all you needed to tell me, Rojo?" The male kept his words cool and curt. Finally, he arrived at a black door labeled '22G'.

"More or less. Where are you?"

"At my apartment. Why?"

"Because Hun wants us to start A.S.A.P."

The key had not even unlocked the door before Damien whimpered. "Forget it," he grumbled. "Start searching without me because I ain't doing anything tonight." Pushing his door open, the man fumbled into darkness, not bothering with a light when he closed the door. He knew where to couch was.

"Don't ruin this chance for me, Bones." Rojo growled.

"I know. You want to look good for the boss to take Dragonface's position." A strong yawn prevented Damien from speaking any further, which gave him the prime opportunity of hearing an offended snarl.

"Don't mock me!"

"Relax. I ain't doing any such thing." The man sunk into the comfort of his cloth couch as he released a content sigh.

"So you really are going to sleep?"

"Yup."

"…Next time I see you, I'm kicking your ass."

"Will do," Damien murmured. He was not quite sure how the phone call ended. Sleep enticed his brown eyes to shut and not long after Rojo's hoarse voice was lost to a land of dreams. He had no intent of waking up until night fell again.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Damien turned out to be another one of those characters who cried for a little more attention. XD Don't worry, this is all tied in with...things...Don't forget to review! :D


	23. Desperation

**Author's Note:** Apparently when I feel depressed, I want to post more chapters, so, here. Have another chapter. I love you guys. Thanks so much for the compliments/reviews Duckie and Feather. Seriously. *hugs***  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in no way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 23 - ****Desperation**

Charles sat rigidly in a wooden chair. Before him—sprawled on the dirt floor of his unfinished cellar—lay an unconscious woman bound with thick ropes about her toned arms and legs. His dark gaze regarded her lithe form with powerful yet cool anger. It was an anger he had been attempting to quell since the time he snatched her from the park the prior night. In all honesty he wished such actions as kidnapping had not been necessary, but the woman had forced his hand like a bad game of poker.

In his desperation he had taken her. Now, in that same desperation, he kept her. Yet even though she was enclosed by four walls of stone and mortar, she still refused to help. Still! How could it be that this woman could remain so obstinate? Her determination to deny him his goal matched that of reinforced iron laced with diamonds, impregnable. He knew without doubt such a will would not corrode without drastic means. Like torture.

Charles sighed.

To him, torture was a rather tasteless and barbaric thing to do. He had always been a man of reason. Debating views civically was his choice of fighting. In fact, the first ten hours of the woman's capture he had been very hospitable. He offered food and water, spoke kindly, and even ensured as much comfort as possible, given the circumstances. Between the eleventh and sixteenth hour, though, he had grown dangerously short with her speechlessness. He had distanced himself at that point to prevent any mishaps (for he was dangerously close to abandoning his views of civility) then returned to his captive in the seventeenth hour to find her sleeping.

'_So stubborn… I do not wish to harm her, yet…Olivia is running out of time. If it comes down to it…I just may have to do what must be done, no matter how despicable. Olivia's counting on me…Ah!_ '

"Good morning, Miss O'Neil," Charles said to the stirring figure.

In response, the redhead groaned hoarsely. Her fiery tresses had long-since come undone from their up-do, and now entangled her weary face in a manner that clearly marked vain effort. Charles watched with mild intrigue as her brows furrowed in confusion, rose in surprise, and then lowered in frustration.

"Why are you still keeping me here?" she inquired after a long pause.

"You know why, Miss O'Neil," Charles replied. He deserted his chair to aid April in sitting up, but she would have nothing of it.

"Don't touch me!" the woman snarled, kicking her bounded legs in his general direction.

"I'm simply trying to help," mumbled Charles. Still, he retracted his hands at her persistent glare.

"No, you're not," April hissed. "Usually those who want to help others don't kidnap them!"

'_Well, at least she's talking now. Her frustration could work to my advantage…_'

"Now that statement is rather relative," he stated calmly. "Sometimes to do what's best requires demeaning actions. Please, understand. You _forced_ me into this decision."

"I did _what_?"

With a sigh, Charles resituated himself on his chair, and only his inner gentlemen convinced him to flash a sympathetic look at his glaring captive.

"I had given you a chance to give me what I need willingly…but you rejected the offer."

"Of _course_ I did!" April's scoff sounded throaty. "Who in their right mind would just hand over a kid into the care of a shady character from the mall? Honestly. I thought you were supposed to be a _bright_ man."

Charles's lips pursed. "You seem to me a good judge of character," he said in a tone just barely free of offence, "so I assumed you could detect my sincerity."

"Sincerity is mute without sensible reasoning," retorted April. "You should have told me who you were and what you wanted from the start."

"I was protecting you," countered Charles gravely.

"That's a funny way of looking at it."

"It's the truth! Just in case…any kind of investigation ensued. It would make life easier for you if you were able to claim ignorance." His words must have sparked something, for April regarded him with the most incredulous gaze he had received from her to date.

"What kind of investigation?" she asked slowly. "Are you talking about the N.Y.P.D…or the E.P.F.?"

A coating of shock iced over Charles's body in an instant, rendering him motionless under the calm gaze of the redhead. His stomach sank just slightly, and he had to shake his head before thoughts began flowing again.

"You know of the Earth Protection Force?" he questioned.

"We're acquainted," the redhead answered.

Charles stood from his seat so could pace before April. "How?"

"Let's just say their leader Bishop has been a thorn in my family's side for a _very_ long time."

"Family?" Pausing in his travels, Charles glanced towards the woman, his brows furrowing. "What family of yours could possibly cross paths with that of Agent Bishop?" Charles's frown only grew when his captive's face twisted into a mocking smile.

"The same family that's going to make you regret taking me."

"Is that so? And just how are they going to find you here?" Now anger was beginning to boil in the man's blood. His eyes narrowed as a low growl accompanied April's fierce tug at her restraints.

"They'll find a way!" she cried in a suddenly shrill voice. "They _always_ do!"

"Then you must _understand_!" The man's voice roared like a fierce lion and before he even realized it, fury guided his feet to April's side. He kneeled before her, his voice heated. "You believe in your family like _mine_ believes in me! They're the reason I'm doing any of this!" April must not have been expecting such a revelation because she faltered. Her jaw hung agape while she searched his face for something unknown to him.

"You're not making any sense," she said finally. "What do Nia and Bishop have to do with your family?"

"_Everything_!" spat Charles. "Bishop had given me high hopes for Olivia when he recruited me last year, but his promises were all empty. Miss Anders can help. If you just give her to me, she can save someone, and I can protect her from Bishop. He's trained me to fight in case of an emergency."

"Really?" Incrimination returned to April's tone. "_You'll _protect her? You say that, but I haven't seen Bishop make any moves. If you ask me, _you're_ the only one Nia needs protecting from!" The woman's scowl had no effect on Charles's stiff form.

He counted such hatred with an impassive expression that scarcely masked every enraged nerve burning within him. "You know very little about Agent Bishop in that case, Miss O'Neil. I was there the night he discovered Nia, the night fire destroyed her building. Believe me; though they may not be as detectable as mine, he _is_ making his moves."

"Wait…The E.P.F. was involved in that? I thought the fire was an accident and you had just…happened to track her down that night."

"Technically, the fire was accidental," the man replied simply. "The E.P.F. had been recruiting a few new scientists, and after stumbling on Gavin Anders' records at Erudio Laboratories, Bishop and I went to his apartment personally to offer a job. Things went downhill from there…for all of us."

"So you're an ex-E.P.F. member?" With a single deep breath, April recovered any lost oxygen from her sudden shock and after a moment, she was able to regard the man with a collected stare. "Both you and Bishop escaped that fire, along with Nia. Does that mean you left her parents there to _die_? Is _that_ your idea of helping?"

"I could control very little in that situation!" As soon as the last word passed through his clenched teeth, Charles stood, looming over April like a vengeful god. A glimpse of fear could be detected in those wide green eyes, but somehow it did not bother the man as much as it should have. "I could only save one," he hissed. "I would have grabbed her parents as well, but Bishop had already taken them. He also had to leave men behind."

April retreated against the stone wall behind her the best she could and tucked her knees under her squared chin. "Are you saying…her parents are alive?" she whispered.

"Uncle Charlie, why are you yelling?" A sweet voice corralled Charles's anger immediately, as if it were a lion tamer. Disregarding April's question, the man twisted behind him, towards the slim staircase that bridged the musty basement to his house's ground floor. Standing bare-footed at the base was a young girl dressed in a pink nightgown. Two thick braids of pale hair almost blended with her ghostly completion and draped over her bony shoulders. She observed the duo with only one milky brown eye since her right had been clouded with blindness for years now. Charles scowled at her presence, but not because she had seen him with April.

"Olivia, you should be in bed," the man said sternly. Within several long strides he reached Olivia's side. A piece of his heart broke when he guided the frail child up two steps by gripping her tiny wrist. He felt no muscle, merely bone.

"But you were screaming," replied Olivia. "I was…scared. I thought you were yelling with Auntie Maddie…about me."

"Never," Charles cooed while kneeling down to her eye level. "Why would you think such a thing?" He smiled in reply, a warm gesture only a parent could give their child.

"Because I heard you and Aunt Maddie the other day…"

"Is that so?" The tall man brushed aside what little bangs she had left. "Well, that's not something you need to worry about. That's grown-up talk. Sometimes…your Aunt Maddie and I get angry, but not at each other or you. We're O.K. now."

"Really?"

"Promise."

"Then you…don't regret taking me in after mommy and daddy…?"

Charles chuckled sensitively at Olivia's timid question. "Of course not," he answered. "We would never regret such a thing; we love you more than anything in the universe. Now, there's no reason to worry about that anymore. You really should be in bed. We can't have you collapsing again. Having a broken leg wasn't fun, was it?" Olivia's chapped lips puckered for a moment before she shook her head. "Then let's get you back under the covers."

Slowly, the child nodded her compliance, but not before casting a glance behind her uncle. "Who's that lady?" she asked Charles when he gathered her into his lengthy arms. "And why is she tied up?"

Half-turning, the man faced April. The redhead still kept her knees drawn up, but her face now read pure shock as opposed to fear.

"This lady is going to help you," he answered kindly. "Now, let's not tell Auntie Maddie about this. Can we keep it a secret between us?"

"Do I get a treat if I do?"

"You little extortionist." Charles released a breathy laugh. "Alright. A few candies, but nothing more. Got it?" The blonde nodded in excitement then tightened her grip around her uncle's slim neck. How could he not smile at such affection? "Pardon us. I'm going to put the traveler back to bed." So, Charles began his journey up the steps, and gave an amused shake of his head at the waving movement he felt behind him.

"Good bye, Miss Lady!"

* * *

Detective Reese sunk further into a bench at Bryant Park, completely exhausted. He had been searching for hours after his shift, yet to no avail. What he sought still eluded him, and the only things he had gained were aches in his joints.

'_Ah, I feel like such an old man_,' he grumbled within his mind.

Surely a forty-four-year-old of his profession should be capable of handling more than this. Right? Then again, it had been a while since he last slept.

"Hey, Hugh, I found something!"

'_About time._'

"Coming!" Hugh called back. The man forced himself to stand then followed a dirt path towards the voice that had hailed him. His trip ended at a line of pruned shrubs, which created a barrier between him and a dark figure standing beneath the shaded canopy of many mature Oak trees. Hugh was not startled at the presence; the athletic male just beyond was nothing less than a fellow cop. "What did you find, Blaine?" he asked his junior.

"A phone," Officer Blaine Williams answered with a shallow frown. "The battery is barely alive, though."

"What's in the contacts?"

"Uh…" Blaine's fair fingers pushed a few buttons on the red device as Hugh advanced through dying foliage. "Lots of names, actually. The last number to be dialed is someone named Casey. Does the name ring a bell?" The second man drew his gaze to the detective, questioning.

"Yeah, I think so." Hugh scowled. "Dammit. Move." Pushing the younger male aside, he began to study the ground.

'_Those are drag marks, alright. Obvious signs of a struggle. I wonder how far they go on…_'

"Blaine, do you have a flashlight on you?"

"No. It's back in the car. Where we should be right now."

"We finally found something and you just want to leave?" Hugh's attention flicked to Blaine just long enough to register the latter's long yawn.

"Yes," replied Blaine dryly. "Hugh, I'm your friend, not your slave. I'm here by request. Look, we can tape the area off then come back in the morning."

"What if something happens to it?"

"My gosh, you're paranoid." The junior's tone vividly told Hugh that he rolled his eyes. "Taping it off will be enough for a few hours. Come on. My eyes are burning."

The detective rose to his feet and regarded Blaine with silence for a few moments before speaking. "You're right. You should get home. Jennifer will be pissed if I kept you out here any longer."

"And what about Marina? Your 'welcome home' won't be much better at this point."

"Yes, but _my_ wife is used to me being obsessive," countered Hugh, smirking in mild amusement. "She knew what she was getting into from the start. Now, go home. The last thing I need is to get my manhood handed over to me by your little spitfire." Blaine's drooping eyes proved he was too exhausted for a decent debate. He had not even cracked a smile at Hugh's affectionate nickname for his spouse like he normally would.

"Alright. Good luck, Hugh. I'll catch up with you tomorrow." That said, the junior departed, leaving his friend surrounded by the stillness of a deserted park.

"Now, what do we have in here?" Hugh muttered to himself. He remained kneeled on the ground (if only because he did not trust his legs to support him) and scrolled through the phone's features.

'_My number is listed multiple times in the received calls section. This is defiantly Miss O'Neil's, so that means…someone must have snatched her. But who? Kingston? That would make sense with what she told me yesterday, yet what could he use her for? Leverage against Nia somehow…?_'

"That man isn't acting very logically. He must be pretty desperate to go to such lengths…or crazy…How am I going to find her?"

"What are ya doin' wit' April's phone?"

Hugh barely had time to register a booming cry before something solid tackled him to the ground, breathless. His body landed in the dry dirt with a dull '_thud'_ and a low hiss. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that two ribs had just been fractured, but trained instincts were already planning an exit through the searing pain. When his opponent lifted his weight for a second attack, Hugh rolled away then flipped to his feet with relative ease. Such actions were rewarded by a wild snarl from the shadows.

"What do ya know about April? What have ya done wit' her?" Though the Oaks' leaves had already begun to fall, enough still clung to their parents to make it difficult for a true profile within the filtered moonlight. So, Hugh kept his distance from the obscured figure until he could be certain what kind of foe he faced.

"Who are you?" he questioned sternly.

'And w_hy does his voice sound vaguely familiar?_'

Another snarl broke through the tenseness. "_Me_? Ya should be worried about yerself! Where have ya taken April?"

"I haven't done anything to her!"

"Right," the second man scoffed. "I bet ya took her t'en had to return to the scene of the crime because ya were sloppy, leavin' her phone. But guess what? T'at mistake led us right to ya!"

"Us?" The detective's question either went ignored or unheard.

"Give her back!"

"I already told you, I don't have—"

Hugh's protest fell on deaf ears. The second man charged forward like rampaging bull. By instinct, Hugh braced his black sneakers against the ground and drew a hand gun from the holster hanging at his hip. What came next flew completely over the man's comprehension. His gun was knocked from his hands by a wooden staff before it could be poised and he froze at the chilling sensation of crossed steel imprisoning his jugular. Two weapons, meaning two newcomers. When Hugh's wide-eyes drifted ahead, he noted a third was present as well.

'_Where the hell did they even come from?_'

"Casey, you're being hasty," said the being kneeled behind Hugh. "You have to calm down."

"Calm down? I'll calm down when that son of a—"

"Casey?" Hugh cut in stiffly. "You wouldn't happen to be Casey Jones, would you?"

"How do ya know my name?" Casey hissed at Hugh. He fought off whatever restricted him in the darkest shadows then stalked into a breach of light before Hugh. Standing tall, he regarded the detective behind a pair of icy blue eyes.

"We've met before," Hugh said. "Only once, though."

"I highly doubt that."

"It's true. I know Miss O'Neil as well." The blades against Hugh's neck twitched slightly. "I was the detective who released Nia Anders to April. I'm Detective Hugh Reese."

Almost immediately, recognition dawned on Casey, who cursed.

"Is that true, Casey?" a new, kinder, voice questioned.

"Yeah," Casey answered.

"A _cop_? Leave it to Casey to body-slam the law," a second gruff voice noted in anger.

"Shut up, Raph," Casey snapped behind him. "He looked suspicious!"

"Um, can I have my neck back, please?" This time Hugh's question was acknowledged, albeit reluctantly. The detective breathed a slow sigh of relief when the sharp steel retreated. Now free, he calmly walked towards his gun, flinching with every step, yet two wide shadows were quick to block him.

"You can have that back once we get some answers." The one who spoke had been the one with the blades.

"I'm a member of the N.Y.P.D." Hugh narrowed his honey brown eyes at the duo. "Who are _you_ to tell me when I can get my gun back?"

"We don't mean any disrespect towards your status," said the kind voice.

"If that's true, then move."

"I'm sorry. That would be too risky for us at the moment."

"Excuse me?"

"It's alright, Detective Reese. Ya dun't gotta worry about t'em hurtin' ya." Hugh whirled to his right. Casey, who flashed a hollow smile at the former's scowl, advanced without fear.

"Right. And which side had a _blade_ to my neck?"

"T'at was my fault," answered Casey with a sigh. "T'ey're my family. T'ey were just…protectin' me."

"What kind of family has to hide themselves from cops?" Hugh inquired, still glaring. No. Regardless of Casey's company, Hugh would not idly sit by and let civilians handle this matter as if _he_ were the one that needed to be investigated. "Look, we can talk. Fine. Just give me back my gun."

"Can't we talk wit'out it?"

"That's not the _point_, Mister Jones."

"I know. We understand yer point. But we also have our reasons not to let ya have it."

"_I'm_ the detective," growled Hugh. "If anyone here deserves their weapon, it's me. Now I'm ordering the two of you to move, or else I'll arrest you for obstruction of an investigation!"

As if they had not ticked him off enough neither figure so much as twitched in response. Hugh bit back a deep growl of aggravation then promptly dodged to an open flank, intent on retrieving his gun himself. One figure instantly had him on the ground with a whack of his staff while the other kicked his firearm further away, into some shrubs. The detective hissed a curse at the jarring sting that set his ribs on fire, but in spite of his breathlessness he allowed his anger to roam unbridled through trained muscles. When he stood again, his long fingers gripped the upper arms of his new opponent like hungry snakes. Though he noted the texture beneath his palms felt strange, he kept his attention on tackling the bulky male into the dirt. Which he did. They rolled once, a lumpy action which felt even more off than the skin of his challenger, and finally, with a powerful heave, Hugh managed to kick the other male into a concentrated flood of light. That is when Hugh's heart stopped. There, in the moonlight, lay a humanoid creature with pale green skin and a bulky shell on his back.

"Donny, are ya O.K.?" A frozen Hugh watched with wide-eyes as Casey rushed to the one named Don.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Don replied, holding his side. "Man, that guy is surprisingly strong..." Before anything else could be said, Hugh found himself flat on his back, a blade at his throat and a threatening pressure on his vulnerable stomach. Air left him again; this time in pain.

"Dun't _ever_ touch my bro like t'at again, ya got me?" The gruff one growled.

"Detective, I wish you hadn't of done that," said the second voice.

His words barely registered with Hugh, though. The man's reeling mind had already left him so far behind in thought that he no longer felt his body was his own. He swore his consciousness slipped into another realm, leaving only an empty shell to speak in his stead.

"_What_ are you?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Tell me, how many of you would have guessed that Hugh would meet the guys? Fufufu. Next chapter will have more action, promise! Don't forget to review! :D


	24. Mission

**Author's Note: **As always, thanks, Feather and Duckie! I love hearing from my readers. *hugs* We got some action in this chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint!**  
Disclaimer: **TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Any OCs you notice belong to me. I am in now way making any money. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 24 - ****Mission**

If Leonardo had been one who lacked self-control, he would have beaten Casey into a drooling pulp. Thanks to that man, not only had the Hamato clan been seen, but they had been seen by one of New York's finest. What recklessness! Leo could say he would have expected more from the human after eight years of knowing him. To do that would go against the Bushido teaching of Shin, though. Even after all this time, Casey's discipline had grown by only a small amount, and that small amount never won a battle against his emotions when it came to April.

In this knowledge, Leonardo had tempered his panic with rationality and empathy. He had kept everyone calm, even the detective, until they could all think more civilly. Unfortunately, Hugh had settled into a state of disbelief just as soon as the shock wore off. He had mustered just enough energy to back himself against a tree, which he then slid down as the blue-banded mutant kneeled before him.

"Detective Reese?" Leonardo inquired for what felt like the twentieth time. Yet again, he received nothing more than a slightly shaking head. "Detective, listen. My family and I mean you no harm. We just need your help."

"You're real…" Hugh whispered. Leo almost laughed at how childish the man sounded.

"Yes, we are," he replied softly.

"I felt his skin, his muscles. There's no way that's a suit…"

"Detective?"

"Turtles…"

Sighing, Leonardo ran a hand down one side of his face.

"And here I t'ought cops were supposed to be strong-minded," Raphael grumbled behind his older brother. Immediately, the Jonin opened his mouth for a reprimand, but before he could, he was cut off.

"I'm quite collected given the circumstances, _thank you_!" Hugh said tartly.

Raph scoffed under the hard gaze of the detective's glare. "Ya consider t'is collected? I've seen better reactions from _children_."

"Raph, enough," Leo interrupted. He ensured his younger brother caught the severity of both his tone and his gaze. When the latter's attention adverted in submission, Leo sucked in a deep breath. "Detective Reese, I'm sorry my friend attacked you. He thought you had taken our sister."

"Your sister?" questioned Hugh, an eyebrow raised. "I thought he mentioned something about Miss O'Neil."

"He did," answered Leo gently. "April may not be blood-related to us, but we consider her family. So if you know anything that could help us, please say something."

Hugh shook his head, his attention settled on Leonardo. "Regrettably, I think you may know more than I do. Honestly, until a few minutes ago, the only proof I had that Miss O'Neil is missing is many, many missed calls." The African-American straightened his back against the Oak trunk behind him. Leo could tell in his tone that Hugh was growing more comfortable with their presence.

"Missed calls by whom? You?"

"Yes," Hugh muttered. He lifted two fingers towards his temple, yet just as soon stopped himself. "I talked with Miss O'Neil yesterday afternoon. She told me of the things happening with Nia."

"She did?" There could be no denying the shock in Donatello's voice.

Hugh sent the purple-banded mutant a firm nod. "Yes. I spotted her at an Asian supermarket then asked her to talk with me in the park—this park, to be exact. She asked for my help in investigating Charles Kingston. That's who I was trying to call her about."

"Charles who?"

"Kingston. He's one of the two men supposedly interested in Nia."

Don narrowed his eyes. "How do you know this?"

"She explained the man she met at the mall," answered Hugh simply. "Her description matched that of a doctor I recognized from an old paper. I'm sure if I could print a picture for her she could ID him."

"Is that so…? What did she tell you of the second—"

"Don," Leo interjected quickly, "save the questions for later. Right now, we have to find April."

Donatello took a step back, almost in shame. "Right, Leo. Sorry."

"It's fine. Now, Detective Reese, do you have any other leads?"

"Just the phone," Hugh replied with a low groan. "And your friend saw to it that I couldn't see much of even that."

"Hey, dun't blame me!" Casey cried while taking a powerful step forward. He pointed at the detective as if accusing him of murder. "Ya were the one lookin' like a creeper!"

"I'm a detective," Hugh replied, deadpanning, "it's my _job_ to creep!"

"If t'at's true, t'en why haven't ya crept better and found April already?"

Leonardo could only shake his head as Hugh spread his long arms, sneering.

"Oh, by all means, Mister Jones, if you think you can creep better than me, lead the way."

"Dun't patronize me!"

"I give people the same respect they give me. If you don't want to be patronized then maybe you should _respect_ the one with the badge!"

"He's right, Casey," added Leo. When Casey glared down at him, the mutant gave a curt nod. "Please stand down." The man did so, but with belligerent displeasure. Leonardo finally stood from his kneeling position then offered a three-fingered hand towards Hugh, who graced his gesture with an unsure stare. "I understand what you mean, Detective Reese," he said gently. "While growing up, my brothers and I have learned the value of Rei, respect. I beg forgiveness on behalf of Casey and my clan, including myself. We never meant to disrespect you by questioning you or keeping you from your gun. However, I hope you can understand our reasoning for doing such."

"Yes, I can," Hugh replied stiffly. He accepted the mutant's offer, staggering to his feet with several winces.

"Are you alright, Detective?" questioned Leonardo.

"I'll be fine. Mister Jones has just"—Hugh winced again—"fractured some ribs."

"Way to go, Head-Case."

"Shut up, Raph!"

"Do you need to go to a hospital?"

The detective shook his head at Donatello. "No. It's minor. I can go after we find Miss O'Neil."

"Are you sure?" Don pressed.

"Positive." With an awkward smile, the tall man quickly made his way to the line of shrubs where his gun had been kicked earlier. After digging it out from a cluster of unfriendly thorns, he placed it back in its holster then faced the group. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't shoot anybody. The only person I'm even thinking about shooting right now is the man who took Miss O'Neil."

"Kingston, right?" Casey snarled.

"That isn't definite," answered Don, "but it could be a start."

"So w'ere do we go from here, Brainiac?"

"Oh, so _now_ you want to listen to my thoughts, Raph?"

"I was listenin' to ya before," Raph countered, glaring. "Casey and I just didn't see a reason why we would need a ten-step plan to recover Ape's phone, is all."

Don gaze a bitter, curt laugh. "Really? Hours of satellite interference had setback our investigation almost a whole day and it never _occurred_ to you that someone didn't _want_ us to find April's phone? This could have been a trap! Now look where your thoughtlessness has landed us!"

"Hey! _Casey_ was the one who tackled the cop, not me!"

"We're supposed to be ninjas, not wrestlers!"

"In case ya'll overlooked the memo,_ I_ ain't a ninja!"

"Keep quiet, Casey!" Raphael snapped before returning to Donatello. Leonardo was left to grimace in the wake of his brothers' arguing voices.

"Do they fight like this often?" questioned Hugh as joined the Jonin.

"Often enough," Leo replied grimly. "Especially between Casey and Raphael. Donatello rarely joins in so willingly, but I know he's been flustered recently…Hey, what's so funny?" Leonardo narrowed his umber eyes at the laughing human.

"I'm sorry," Hugh managed to say, clenching his ribs. The chi around him grew less tense when he inhaled then exhaled a deep, steady breath. "It's just that—I don't know…my mind was telling me—it was telling me that you were…aliens, creatures, _things_. I got flashbacks to monster movies. But, uh, watching this? It reminds me of my own family. My sister. Suddenly, you all don't seem so alien to me. Is that weird?"

A light smile spread its way across Leo's mouth. "You're asking that to a six-foot mutant turtle."

Hugh smiled as well. "So I guess the answer's 'no'."

"Hey, Fearless, do ya wanna contribute to t'is conversation or what?"

"Is _that_ what that is?" Leonardo called back. Raphael huffed, but a man's muffled singing cut him off any more spiteful words. "I—Is that your phone, Detective?" Leo asked.

"Yes," Hugh replied.

Donny pushed past Raph and Casey, obviously holding back a laugh. "Is that Right Said Fred's 'I'm Too Sexy'?"

"Yes." The dark-skinned human did not even bat an eyelash at the strange looks the Hamato clan sent him. He simply fished a sleek, black phone from his inside jacket pocket then swiped his finger across the sensitive screen to accept his call. "Detective Hugh Reese here," he said. "Damien? Is that you?" Within the brief moment that Hugh paused, his honey brown eyes widened and the air caught in his throat. "Y—you're about to do _what_?"

* * *

"Ya sure this is the place, Rojo? It looks rather…nice."

"This is the address Hun gave us. But if you have doubts, Little Spice, you're free to go back to H.Q. and fill out a complaint form."

"Such cheekiness. I hate that about ya, ya know?"

"Oh, believe me, I know."

Damien rolled eyes at such flirting. He hated it whenever Rojo and Little Spice worked together in a group. Deny as they may, the couple would always get sucked into their own world and leave their remaining team members to their own devices. Even now—when the three Purple Dragons were mere steps away from breaking and entering the Kingston household within the confines of Morningside Heights—they bounced inappropriate banter off one another. It was sickening.

"You two can get a room later," Damien hissed. "For now, we have a mission to complete. In case you forgot."

"Yer such a wet blanket, Bony-Boy," Little Spice cooed in her light Brooklyn accent. Damien could feel the woman's hot breath against his neck when she spoke. It smelled of Vodka, and the male had to shrug her unwanted weight off his arm so he would not gag.

"Go hang on your _toy_, not me," he spat.

The tanned redhead pouted, though the impish glint behind her dark blue eyes defied any amount of innocence she attempted to achieve. Not that her skin-tight leather outfit or Gothic styled make-up worked in her favor anyway. Damien had long since convinced himself that the woman had looked devious from the time of her birth.

"Why do ya gotta be like that, Bones?" Little Spiced questioned, her words smothered by fake sweetness. "I wish Hunt had been able to come as planned. He's way more fun than ya."

"Yeah, what a pity," Damien replied dryly. "It isn't my fault he got reassigned. Take that up with Hun."

"So testy, testy. Ya should really loosen up, dear." Damien jerked his head away from the gloved hand she ran down his cheek and cringed at the cackle she released before maneuvering her way up the beaten lattice on the house's darkest side.

'_Ugh, the face and body of Venus and the laugh of the Wicked Witch. How fitting._'

"Don't look so down, Bones," Rojo cheered. He smacked the back of his partner.

"She's drunk, Livino." Damien glared in response to Rojo's smirk.

"So she's had a few drinks. So what?"

"I do _not_ feel comfortable with her carrying a gun."

"Relax, will ya? Hun personally picked us three for this mission."

"That doesn't make Amanda any less drunk!"

"She's _just_ tipsy."

"With a gun!" An exasperated scoff erupted from Rojo, and Damien did all he could to hinder his urge to punch the man.

"Damn, dude! First, stick to our codenames. Second, we all have guns, so don't worry. I swear, you talking with that damned cop has sucked out what little sense of adventure you ever _did_ have."

"What cop?" Damien asked automatically, steering his head away from incriminating brown eyes.

"Don't play dumb, Bones. I know for a fact you talk with that detective. We wouldn't want Hun finding out your little secret, now would we?"

"Let's just get this over with." Damien kept his eyes averted when he passed the Hispanic to follow Little Spice's lead. It was a little difficult not to trip on the yard's overgrowth of sticker bushes and ivy, but regardless of an absence of light from the near-new-moon, the man managed to avoid any big disasters. He sighed just as his tense fingers gripped the lattice and forced himself to look up. From the second story balcony, whose stone railing she now straddled, Little Spice flashed a too happy Cheshire grin that turned Damien's stomach upside-down.

'_Great,_' he thought as he began his ascent. '_I'm going to get shot, I know it…_'

* * *

"Are you alright, Mister Jones?"

Casey snapped his head up, blinking. Immediately his mind reeled with questions about where he sat. After a few moments and a quick glance at his surroundings, though, the man re-settled into the knowledge that he now accompanied Detective Reese in a black police cruiser.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Casey grumbled. He tore his attention from his lap to the passenger window, glaring at the blurs of light passing by like shooting stars. "How much longer 'til we get t'ere?"

"About three minutes less than the last time you asked," Hugh replied with a sigh.

"Can't t'is t'ing go any faster?"

"I'm pushing it at seventy-two, Mister Jones. Though I have my sirens on, there are still idiots who refuse to clear my path completely. This _is_ New York, you know?"

"It wouldn't be takin' t'is long if ya had stuck to Twelfth Avenue…"

"A tractor trailer had flipped. What did you _want_ me to do?"

"Go around it!" Casey screamed as he punched the dashboard before him. It cracked.

"There _was_ no way around, Mister Jones," Hugh retorted, his voice raising. "Cars were piled on both sides!"

"T'en have t'em _move_!"

"Dammit, I'm a detective, not a miracle worker! Broadway is getting us there just fine."

"A'right! A'right! A'right! Whatever. Just—just get t'ere soon…"

"…Mister Jones?"

"_W'at_?"

"You need to calm yourself."

With a throaty hiss, Casey whirled his head to face the driver. He caught a brief glimpse of Hugh's side glace, yet narrowed his icy blue eyes only after the detective returned his attention to the long streets ahead.

"Dun't ya dare tell me to calm the hell down!" he snarled. He assaulted the weakened dashboard again then stomped a heavy foot against the floorboard before directing a finger at the cop's turned head. "If what ya said is true, _Kingston_ is the only man who could want April right now, and accordin' to yer phone call wit' t'at little Purple Dragon punk, he's about to learn why deals wit' t'ose slugs _always_ end on a sour note. If"—his voice broke—"if April's wit' t'em t'en—"

"Forgive me," Hugh interrupted. "I should have worded that more carefully. If Marina were in April's place, I know the last thing I would want is someone telling me to calm down."

"Who's Marina? Yer girlfriend?"

"My wife."

"April and I ain't married…"

"But you love her, do you not? It's the same principle."

"Yeah, I guess…"

"We'll find her, Mister Jones. The Purple Dragons have no business with her, so even if they do find her in the house, they may just leave her be. Damien will make sure of that."

"And if t'ey dun't?"

"Mister Jones, that tone is rather—"

"What? Dishearteni'?" The man sneered. "Look, I could care less if yer are a detective, F.B.I. agent, or the president himself—if _any_ of t'ose punks hurt April, I swear on my life…I'll kill 'em. I'll kill 'em all. Do ya understand?" Casey did all he could to show the truth of his heated words by reining in all his hatred until it flared like a forest fire behind narrowed eyes. Surely the detective must have sensed this.

"I _do_ understand," Hugh said after a long moment filled with the ringing of the cruiser's sirens. "But that does not make you exempt from the law. If you kill any one…I will arrest you. Do you understand?"

"I do," Casey replied, slow and steady.

"Then I guess there's nothing more I can do about that."

"Ya got t'at right."

Hugh shook his head, though remnants of a smile prevented him from looking completely exasperated. "We're coming up on hundred-twentieth. Will your friends be there on time?"

"Of course they will," answered Casey with a snort. "Ape's their family—our family. Knowin' t'em, t'ey'll be t'ere before us."

"How could that be possible? Because of their size, they had to go back for their own vehicle, right? They should be a ways behind us."

"Ya t'ink t'at's gunna stop t'em from gettin' t'ere before us? T'ey got ways of gettin' around."

Hugh's dark brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not'in'," Casey grumbled, returning his attention to the window. "It just means…t'ey won't let anyt'in' stop 'em…"

* * *

Donatello sighed as Raphael gave the parked Battle Shell a strong kick then round towards him. "Denting the van won't inflate the tire, Raph."

"Like I give a damn, Don!" Raphael retorted loudly. His accent echoed through the slim alley they stood in, which earned a glare from Leonardo.

"Will you be quiet?" hissed the Jonin from the back end of the van. He squeezed through the narrow passage between their vehicle and the tall brick wall that sheltered them from the eyes of the street so he could give the hothead a pointed stare. "You'll draw attention."

Raphael huffed and leaned against the Battle Shell's front grill, his arms crossed. "W'atever, Fearless, t'is is New York. No one cares."

"Regardless, Raph," Donny interjected, "It's better safe than sorry. We can get away easily, but not the Battle Shell. Not with a flat anyway."

"Donny, do you have a spare?" Leo asked.

Don faced his eldest brother. "It will take time to change. I think we would be better off on foot for now. We're in Morningside Heights already, so we shouldn't be too far from the address Detective Reese gave us."

"Still, the Battle Shell can't be here when daylight comes."

"I know, Leo," Donatello snapped without thought. "I'll _fix_ it when we get April back."

Leonardo paused, eyes widening slightly, then sighed. "Right. Sorry, Don. I won't make you stay here."

"Thank you."

"If ya two are quite done"— added Raphael gruffly—"we got a house to find."

"Right," Leo answered. He motioned for Donatello to follow him. The two bypassed the van and met their brother at the alley entrance. "O.K.," Leo started, "so we need to head left a little ways. Hopefully, Casey and the detective are…"

"L—Leo?" Donny waved a head in front of the Jonin's darkened face. When he received no reply, Don glanced over his shoulder to see what his brother pointed at with such fervor. A lanky figure darted across the sidewalk opposing the alley, his long arms pulled backwards as if he were a mime fighting a strong breeze. At one point he paused beneath a lamppost and twisted behind him to mumble at something he apparently held. This gave Donatello the perfect opportunity to see his face before he rounded a street corner. "Leo…was that…?"

"Kingston," the leader growled in reply. "Donny, you go help Casey and Detective Reese. The house must not be far from here, after all. Raph and I will take care of Kingston." Leonardo left no room for an answer. He immediately nodded at Raphael, who smirked, and together the duo crossed the street, disappearing into the shadows beyond. Donatello felt a wave of anxiety rush through his veins when he lost sight of his brothers. Nevertheless, he obeyed his order and began his ascent to the neighborhood rooftops.

'_Please, be careful, guys…_'

* * *

Hugh hissed sharply as he awoke. His sluggish mind barely registered a stern force shaking his shoulder, growing rougher with the urgency of someone's voice. He blinked several times then gradually lifted his aching body from the warm sidewalk he had been laying on.

"Detective, what happened?" Donatello asked. The purple-banded mutant aided Hugh as he stood.

"I—I…" The man closed his blurry eyes as a wave of severe nausea overcame him. "We were about to enter Kingston's house…Mister Jones!" He took a step forward, towards the pale blue townhouse ahead, but swayed. "We have to get to Mister Jones. He had hit me in his panic and went after the gun fire alone."

"That idiot," Donatello hissed under his breath. "You should probably stay here, Detective. Your ribs are obviously—"

"No," Hugh interjected, "I'm fine! We should go before—"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three gun shots were all the incentive the duo needed. Their eyes locked in a silent agreement before they both raced up the aged, wooden staircase that lead into Kingston's classic home. Hugh almost lost his footing when he vaulted over the open threshold into the dimly-lit foyer beyond because a sea of ceramic shards covered the hardwood floor. The detective could only assume it had been shattered when Casey kicked in the door and he steadied himself by grasping onto a baluster from the staircase on the right. Donatello breezed past the fumbling human without skipping a beat, kneeling gracefully beside a simple hall table like he had floated over the entire mess. He flashed Hugh an almost weary look, as if disgruntled over the fact Hugh was there at all, and then gave a nod that obviously asked if the detective were alright. Regaining his balance, the human stood tall and drew his gun from its holster, nodding firmly in return.

He sprinted along with Donatello down the narrow hallway, towards an open white door nearly two yards away. His free hand shot forward to grip the doorframe, which guided him as he rounded the corner into a small space surrounded by ten-foot walls and filled with a line of hanging garments. It took all of two seconds for the man to determine it was a closet. But just when he took a step back so that he could search elsewhere, another gunshot rang out—beyond the coats.

"An entrance?" Don asked beside him.

Hugh helped the mutant pull several garments off their rack and then peered behind them, where an enclosed narrow staircase could be found. Their decent to the basement was quick and automatic, and neither paused until their feet touched concrete. Hugh barely had time to register a body sailing towards them when they took a step towards the chaos ahead. Donatello jumped first, avoiding the collision with ease, and immediately dove to aid Casey in his fist match against two Purple Dragon members that Hugh barely recognized. This left Hugh to deal with the man who had rolled to a stop at his feet.

"Having a good evening, Damien?" he questioned.

"It's about time you got here," Damien spat towards the detective. A trail of fresh blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth and he hissed in pain as he wiped it away, forcing himself to his feet. "I just disarmed Little Spice, the woman, and Rojo, the man. The guns are to the side, but I can't guarantee they'll stay there."

"Where's Kingston?"

"Not home. He must have left before we showed up and I can only guess it wasn't by choice. We searched the whole place. It's a mess. We found a redhead woman down here, bound. Rojo wanted to take her to Hun for questioning and I…stopped him."

"You did the right thing, Damien," Hugh said, nodding. "Now tell me, how long has Mister Jones been here?"

"You mean the guy who lost his girlfriend?" The gangster scoffed. "Just a few minutes. I tried telling him that I was on his side, but he kept fighting me too."

"Hence the throwing, I take it. Will flashing my gun do any good?"

"No. Not with these two. They'd rather be killed."

"I see." Hugh frowned and placed his gun back in its holster. "Guess we have to do this the hard way. Find the woman and keep her safe."

The detective left Damien no time to reply; he charged into the fray beyond, biting back the burn in his ribs, and saved Donatello's head from a fierce blow. He smirked at the Hispanic man whose elbow he had captured then delivered a strong uppercut to his square jaw. As the Purple Dragon reeled back, Don stole his balance with one swift sweep of his staff. Rojo had already planned a counter attack before he even reached the floor, as evident by his quick regain of balance. Hugh had seen this and quickly ran over so he could knee the bent man in the face before hammer kicking his back. Rojo fell to his knees then, gasping a bit. Donatello swooped in when he began to rise, and swung his staff into the Hispanic's head as if hitting a homerun. The mutant must have found this attack rather tasteless since he scowled in disgust at the unconscious male laying unceremoniously on his side.

"He…he kept getting back up," Don said, still staring.

Hugh nodded. "He'll have a headache, but he should be alright, Donatello. We have one more to go."

The detective drew his attention behind him, where Casey and a female gangster were still engaged in combat. The beefy man looked short of breath, ragged, blind by rage. His opponent, meanwhile, sent blow kisses towards him after every attack she dodged. It was apparent to Hugh that Little Spice saw no real threat in fighting Casey.

"Well, Mister Jones is obviously not thinking straight," Hugh commented. "Do you want to distract the girl while I sneak up and grab her or—"

"I'm the ninja," interjected Donatello, "I can sneak. Let's just do it quick before Casey gets himself hurt. I need to know if April's—"

"She's here. Damien is looking after her." Hugh sent Don a comforting grin, though the mutant's displeasured expression did not lighten. "Ready?"

Donatello dashed away without much confirmation and rounded behind Little Spice just as she cartwheeled to avoid another thoughtless charge by Casey. Hugh caught a glimpse of Don sweeping his leg beneath her, but she jumped, gripped the mutant's shoulders, and flipped herself over his kneeled crouch, giggling all the while. The detective wanted to help his new comrade. Unfortunately, he had a different problem to deal with now. Casey.

"Mister Jones, the situation is being handled," Hugh said, holding his lanky hands up like a barrier between the man and the two fighters behind. "Let Donatello take care of the girl!"

"No!" bellowed Casey, snorting. His narrowed blue eyes remained fixed on Little Spice, who had yet to be apprehended. "I told ya, Reese, t'at if anyt'ing happened to April I'd _kill_ t'em!"

"Damien's with her now!" Hugh cried in return. "I'm sure she's—"

"T'at guy is just anot'er Purple Dragon, punk ass! He can't be trusted!" Casey's glare switched to Hugh, darkening. "I found her bleedin' and t'ose sons of bitches are gunna _pay_!"

"If that's true then don't you think you should be with her?" the detective questioned, also glaring. "Right now Miss O'Neil needs someone to protect her, not avenge her! Are you going to let her down?"

As if slapped across the face Casey's glare faltered. It melted into a surprised realization that laxed all muscles in his burly form. He cursed sharply then rolled his eyes before shaking his head and running to a corner of the basement where Damien kneeled beside an unmoving figure. Hugh sighed in relief, now free of the boar that had been blindly bulldozing through fights, then glanced over his shoulder to check on Donatello. He was shocked to note that the mutant had been disarmed of his staff at some point and now held a hand over his bleeding bicep as he dodged a switchblade wielded by Little Spice.

'_Damn!_' Hugh thought, watching the redhead slice through the musty air with purpose. '_Who trained this girl?_'

Donatello managed a quick knee to Little Spice's unguarded stomach when she lunged just a little too far. She sucked in a crisp breath and by the time she twisted her body towards the ninja, he had slammed the side of his large palm against the base of her neck, rendering her unconscious. Don was gentleman enough to catch her leather-clad body before she fell against the hard concrete, but he did not keep her in his arms for long. Hugh approached the ninja as he stood up then glanced at the deep wound that still bled down his left arm.

"Are you O.K.?" asked Hugh.

"Where's April?" Donatello replied, his brown eyes rapidly scanning the basement.

"Back right corner." Hugh jerked his chin towards the trio behind the purple-clad ninja. Immediately Don turned and Hugh followed him in silence to Casey, Damien, and an unconscious April, who Casey held in his arms. The ropes that had no doubt been used to bind the woman lay cut before Casey. Donatello kneeled in them and ran a thumb over a large bruise that discolored the redhead entire left cheek. When Hugh's eyes ran over April's body for his own assessment of her health, he found a trail of dried blood at the corner of her agape mouth and a strange wound on her right thigh.

"What kind of gun could have done this?" the detective questioned, kneeling beside Donatello. His long fingers peeled back a singed tear of the woman's cargo pants, revealing a long line of bubbled, burnt skin. "Is this wound…cauterized?"

"Damn E.P.F.," Don hissed under this breath.

Hugh's attention fell on the mutant, who glared at the burn with an overwhelming malice. "Who are the E.P.F.?"

"Hopefully, no one you will ever need to deal with," mumbled Don. "Come on, Casey, we have to get out of here before the police show up. I'm sure the neighbors have called them by now."

"Right," Casey answered, instantly standing up.

Hugh eyed the trio as they situated April into the most comfortable bridal position possible then faced the younger African-American that leaned silently against the basement's cement walls. "I'm proud of you, Damien," he said. "I know the last thing you want is to hear that from a cop, but…I am. After all these years I'm glad you're making a change. I'll be sure to give a good word about you to the judge during the trails. I can probably keep your sentencing down to a few months."

"You don't have to do anything for me, Reese," Damien grumbled, crossing his arms. "I've made my own bed. Now I have to sleep in it…"

Hugh smiled. "I'm sure with Jezebel beside you that pessimism will turn to optimism. No one wants to see you turn around more than her."

"That woman's nothing but trouble." The younger man huffed. "I don't know why I keep her around."

"Probably the same reason I keep my wife around," Hugh responded.

"Hey, Leo, is that you?" Donatello's relieved sigh caught both Hugh and Damien's attention. The mutant held a strange cell phone against the side of his head and paced nervously between Casey and April and the two remaining humans. "Are you guys alright…? Good. Where's Kingston? Did you find him…? Oh… So he's…? We—were you spotted…? Yeah, we found her. She has some pretty bad bruising and a plasma wound on her leg, but other than that she's fine. She's not seriously injured… Got it. We're on our way back to the Battle Shell." With a sigh, Don ended his call, placing the device into a pouch on his leather belt. "Kingston got away," he said towards Casey more so than Hugh. "Bishop has him now."

"Well t'at's damn great," Casey spat.

"We have to go. Uh, Detective—"

Hugh held up a hand to stop Donatello. "Don't worry," he said, "I won't tell anyone about you. As far as the N.Y.P.D. is concerned, it was only me following a lead from Damien."

"Thank you, Mister Reese."

"No problem." The man grinned. "I only ask that you keep me informed with what's happening with Nia. I'll be calling with questions."

"I guess that's a small price to pay," Don commented. Then he turned to Casey, smiling. "Let's get April home. Leo and Raph are meeting us at the Battle Shell. We have a tire to change."

"Right," replied Casey. The man drew April close and after a round of thankful nods, Hugh watched the trio leave the basement.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And Bishop has started making his moves. Dun dun. I'm already excited for the next chapter...Don't forget to review! :D


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